Albus Dumbledore and the Wizard's Ruse
by Grandson of Dumbledore
Summary: Albus Dumbledore has survived two thrilling years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and now he enters his third year. Can he overcome the loss suffered in his second year, and lift himself for new challenges, including Quidditch? We'll see...
1. The Labyrinth

Albus Dumbledore and the Wizard's Ruse

Book Three of the _Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts_ Series

* * *

Disclaimer: this is a work of fan fiction based on the worlds created by JK Rowling. The story is written for entertainment and not for profit.

Author's Note: Greetings to all my old readers. Here is your much awaited sequel to "Albus Dumbledore and the Phoenix Feather" (book one) and "Albus Dumbledore and the Everlasting Flame" (book two). For those of you who have read neither of these, I recommend you go to the first chapter of "Phoenix Feather" and start there. "Phoenix Feather" tells the story of Albus Dumbledore's first year at Hogwarts, while "Everlasting Flame" tells the story of his second year. This book, "Albus Dumbledore and the Wizard's Ruse", is about Albus' third year at Hogwarts. So this chapter contains many spoilers for the previous two books and you might not enjoy this story unless you have read the first two.

* * *

"As the sun rises and sets each day, we too must move on from the past"

Chapter 1 – The Labyrinth

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was perplexed. He found himself standing in front of the same mirror as he had ten minutes ago and ten minutes before that. Albus was in a labyrinth constructed by his father Archaeon Dumbledore to test his magical abilities. That's because Albus was a wizard, and a right good one at that. At the end of his second year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus' father had promised to instruct him in some of the finer points of magic over the summer holidays. This left Albus standing in front of a mirror for the third time, having been befuddled by the enchanted labyrinth to end up exactly where he had started.

It was nearly the end of August, 1854, which meant that Albus had been studying under his father for almost the entire holidays already. Yet he continued to struggle with the tasks his father set for him. This was doubly frustrating to the young Dumbledore, because he normally mastered spells and enchantments with careless ease. But something had been troubling Albus from the outset of the summer holidays, and it had everything to do with the events that had occurred at the end of Albus' second year at Hogwarts.

Albus stared at his own reflection in the mirror. He had always been a scrawny little boy, but over the summer he had added a good two inches to his height, giving the impression that he was even thinner than before. His legs were now best described as gangly. He had scruffy auburn hair that grew to his shoulders. His arms dangled beside his waist, one in possession of Albus' beloved 12 ½ inch willow wand endowed with a unique phoenix feather and unicorn tail core. It was arguably one of the most powerful wands in existence, and Albus was lucky to have it. He looked at himself with startling blue eyes over the rims of half-moon glasses. He'd been having trouble with his eyesight throughout the last year, and had finally been taken to Diagon Alley by his mother Lubo to purchase a pair of spectacles. He'd chosen the half-moon design to honour Professor Ryan Rolleston, the man who had saved his father's life at the end of the last school year.

The thought brought back all the tumultuous and painful memories of the dramatic ending to the Triwizard Tournament that had been held at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry during Albus' second year at the magical school. The Tournament had brought together the best wizards and witches from three of Europe's top schools. The Black Forest School of Magical Arts, in the Germanic provinces, had been represented in the competition by Jannes Grundelwald, a dark and menacing figure. Grundelwald's younger brother, a rat-faced creature with terrifying white eyes and a violent temperament, Grindelwald Grundelwald, had made firm enemies with Albus last year. The third school in the competition had been the Moskva Academy from the Russian Empire. Their Champion, Anastacia Volkova, had proved to be as shifty as her German opponent, famously backstabbing the Hogwarts Champion during the final task. That Champion was none other than the new Head Prefect of Hogwarts, Albus' friend Thomas Jones.

The final task had been a race to find the Everlasting Flame of Isis in the Temple of Ast, a beam of light that offered the bearer eternal life and protection. Little did everyone know, but Archaeon Dumbledore had concealed the Flame inside his son's head. The only reason Albus had been involved in the final stages of the Tournament had been because he had been sent to help Thomas with the third task. In a fatal error of judgement, Albus had let his friend, Mars McGonagal, and his girlfriend, Victoria Moody, come with him. In a terrifying climax in the sixth chamber of the Temple of Ast, the Grindelwald brothers, the Black Forest School's Headmaster Admiral Scholtz and Hogwarts' ex-Headmaster Phineas Nigellus had apparated behind Thomas, Mars, Victoria and Albus and cast killing spells on the four of them. Unknown to Albus at the time, he'd been protected by the Everlasting Flame. Mars had in his possession a protective emerald ankh, and Thomas was in possession of a locket called the Eye of Horus. But Victoria Moody had been unprotected and had died instantly.

Albus had been too stricken by grief to pay much attention to what followed, but the Egyptian God Horus had borne down on their attackers and put an end to the life of Jannes Grundelwald. Thomas and Mars had dragged Albus into the seventh chamber, the chamber of the Everlasting Flame, while a battle erupted between British Ministry Wizards, the Germans, and the Russians. The political disputes were of no interest to Albus in his state of despair. In a further twist, one of the Hogwarts' Professors, Januar Solstice, had been seduced by the power of the great Egyptian Dark Lord Imhotep, whom Albus had helped defeat in his first year. Solstice had tried to steal the Everlasting Flame and bring Imhotep back to life. Fortunately Albus' cool thinking under pressure had allowed him to summon Horus, who put an end to Imhotep once and for all.

In the carnage happening out in the sixth chamber, ex-Headmaster Nigellus had been killed, a fitting end for a man treacherous enough to sell out British interests for the sake of power. This same man had been involved in the first plot to raise Imhotep back to life in Albus' first year, which Albus had foiled and was the reason why the man had harboured a grudge against the little schoolboy. In all, Albus felt he had been involved in far too many near-death experiences for one as young as he. But the worst part was that no amount of wishing would bring back the first girl he had ever loved. Victoria Moody was dead partly as a result of his own actions, and Albus had struggled to stop blaming himself all summer long.

And so, here he was in front of the mirror again, thoughts of Victoria Moody floating through his head even as he knew he was supposed to be concentrating on his task.

'You are to navigate your way through the labyrinth,' Archaeon had told him that morning, 'taking care to avoid any of the dangers lurking therein. At every turn you will come across a new clue to guide you to the next. You will need all your powers of deduction as well as swiftness of wand-work to succeed. Good luck.'

Thus Archaeon had set Albus off through a labyrinth created out of hedges in the vast back garden of the Dumbledore mansion. It was a trick that Albus would remember for many years, and would subsequently use to create one of the Tasks in a Triwizard Tournament almost 150 years into the future. But right now Albus was a frustrated young man, on the cusp of his thirteenth birthday, staring into a mirror that refused to offer up any clues as to how he was to get to the next task.

Eventually Albus became frustrated to the point of eruption.

'You insolent mirror, tell me what I ought to do next!' he cried.

To Albus' intense surprise, the mirror replied.

'Take the next two right turns, and then a left, followed by one more right turn and you will arrive at the next clue.'

Albus did not know whether to laugh or to cry. Sometimes his father could deceive him with tricks that were infuriatingly simple. Being as talented as he was, Albus tended to expect things to be more difficult than they actually were. Sometimes in searching for a complicated answer, Albus missed the easy answer right underneath his nose. And a crooked nose it was, as Albus noticed with some regret before he glanced away from the mirror. A falling rock had permanently dented his nose in his first year showdown with Imhotep in an Egyptian crypt, and Albus had never had it straightened. It somehow felt appropriate to keep the scars of his battles; it lent him a certain sense of credibility.

That's because Albus Dumbledore had not been recognized for any of his heroics the past two years. In fact, the Minister for Magic, Lionel Wilberforce, actually viewed him as an attention seeking troublemaker, who had done nothing more than sour relations between British wizards and their German and Russian rivals. Wilberforce was blind to the fact that German and Russian imperial aspirations were the reason why relations had been soured, but it was easy to blame a twelve year-old who kept on showing up wherever there was trouble. Albus had to wonder why he attracted trouble. He knew it had to do with his father's profound influence in the wizarding world, but there had to be more to it than that. Perhaps he was just unlucky.

Albus took two right turns, a left and then another right, and arrived in front of none other than Archaeon Dumbledore himself. The great man did not tower over his son quite as much as before; Albus now reached up to his father's armpits. But Archaeon remained a great figure with a vast auburn beard tumbling down his chest, a face lined by years of working as an Archaeowizard in the Egyptian desert, and clear blue eyes with a magisterial gaze to them.

'Congratulations on getting this far,' Archaeon said. 'You took far too long with that last clue. I suspect you are still letting your thoughts be clouded by the past. It is vital that you put it behind you. Your final obstacle is, well, me. You have to apparate past me in a duel to reach the finish line.'

Albus snorted, convinced that this was well beneath him. He had been apparating since he was an infant; quite unintentionally of course, but it was still a mark of how naturally talented a wizard he was. Albus apparated to a point behind where his father stood, expecting to emerge triumphant. To his surprise, Archaeon had already apparated so that he still obstructed his son from the finish line. Archaeon then cast a stunning spell, sending Albus flying backwards into the hedge. Albus apparated again, but his father was too quick for him. For a second time he was stunned backwards. He apparated a third time but it was to no avail. Archaeon stunned him, disarmed him and bound him with invisible rope with three rapid slashes of his wand.

'That is entirely unfair,' Albus moaned. Archaeon gave a deep throaty chuckle, the same one that always warmed Albus to the core.

'It will take a few years before I permit you to beat me in any sort of duel, my boy,' Archaeon said. 'It is my strong belief that a young wizard must always have a challenge to aspire to; a target to attain. If you start beating your father at too young an age, arrogance will overcome you.'

Albus knew that he should heed his father's words but the bitterness of defeat was too sharp a taste in his throat at that moment. In addition to his ongoing feelings of guilt over Victoria's death, Albus had also found it increasingly difficult to accept that his father was better than he was. When Archaeon had promised to start teaching Albus the difficult arts of Legilimency and Occlumency that summer, he had expected to master them within days like he seemingly did with every other spell he attempted. But these were difficult beyond even Albus' grasp.

When Albus had voiced his exasperation one afternoon of having his thoughts repeatedly intruded upon by his father's Legilimency, Archaeon had tried to reason with him.

'I'm sick of this nonsence,' Albus had yelled. 'I cannot do this, I cannot stop you getting in, and I am tired of you seeing everything inside my head.'

'My boy, these are difficult skills to learn,' Archaeon had said. 'It takes time to guard the mind using Occlumency, and time to read more than just a whisper of your opponent's thoughts with Legilimency. Most wizards or witches can only learn these arts when they have left school, so I did not expect you to make any significant progress at the age of twelve. It will take a whole year of practice before you even show a hint of proficiency.'

'In that case, are you going to come to school every day to teach me?' Albus had said; a distinctly sullen tone in his voice.

'No,' Archaeon said, seemingly oblivious to his son's rudeness, 'but there are a lot of _teachers_ at your _school,_ and I'm certain I'll be able to arrange somebody brave enough to give you lessons in these arts.'

Now Albus lay prostrate on the grass in the labyrinth, bound by Archaeon's spells, and his temper was no less than it had been on the day when he'd lost his cool with Occlumency.

'Unleash me from these bindings,' Albus snapped. 'I have had enough of losing to you and I do not see the point in continuing.'

Perhaps sensing that it was time to put Albus in his place, Archaeon ignored his son and started performing vanishing spells on the hedges that had comprised the walls of the labyrinth. Albus tried wriggling free, but there was no resisting the power of Archaeon's spell. When Archaeon was finished he came to stand over his son's restrained body, a grim expression on his noble face.

'Are you ready to demonstrate some humility?' Archaeon asked.

Albus had to bite his tongue because he very nearly started yelling at his father and throwing a tantrum. The strain of dealing with Victoria's death the past few months had taken its toll on Albus' normally serene temperament. In fact, he had not felt like he'd truly had a holiday. The summer had felt like one continuous lesson from his father and he'd not had the opportunity to be alone with his thoughts. Archaeon must have known all this; in Legilimensing his son numerous times he'd had access to all of Albus' most personal thoughts and feelings; including those of resentment towards his father for being so good at everything.

Albus felt an intense wave of guilt rushing over him under the steadfast gaze of his father. He knew that he was being headstrong, but the teenage hormones rushing through his veins made him irrational at the best of times. Albus was just a week shy of his thirteenth birthday, on September the first, the same day he'd be returning to Hogwarts for his third year. For some reason, the thought didn't appeal to him at that moment.

'I'm sorry, father,' Albus said quietly. 'It's… it's simply that… that I…'

The words wouldn't come. Archaeon unbound Albus and crouched down to embrace him. Suddenly the emotions that he'd been straining to control all summer came rushing back to overwhelm him. He felt tears soaking his father's beard as he wept into the great man's chest.

'I know, my boy, I know,' Archaeon said, stroking Albus' back. 'Let me tell you what is going on in that head of yours, because I think I might actually know better than you do. The benefit of being a bystander is that one can make sense of the maelstrom. You will never truly erase the feeling of guilt over Victoria's death, but the truth is that there is more anger inside you than anything. Anger; that you let her come with you. Anger; that I put you in such a perilous situation. Anger; that Grundelwald killed her. Anger; that you weren't able to avenge her in some way. Anger; that for all your efforts, nobody within the Ministry has stopped to acknowledge your important role in the defeat of Imhotep and his agents of evil. There is a strain of bitterness there, too. You are bitter because you will never get to see Victoria grow into the woman you knew she would become. Furthermore, you are hurting because a part of you; a very large part, I might add, is ready to move on. You feel a mixture of hurt and pain that you are ready to let life go on, when Victoria will never again be a part of it.'

Archaeon paused, and Albus wondered if he was finished, but it was apparently only to collect his thoughts further, because his father continued.

'Throughout this summer you have been using these lessons with me as an outlet for all your pain and frustration. You want very badly to become a great wizard so that the forces of evil can never again hurt you in such a fashion. But I am here to tell you, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, that the greater you become, the more evil will find you, and the more hurt you will feel. Let me tell you, my boy; I have been the target of dark and evil witches and wizards for longer than you have been alive. When you shine like a beacon for the entire world to see, it brings the darkness to you like a well-cast _Accio_ spell. Nevertheless, Albus, while you try to become a great wizard you are becoming increasingly frustrated when you feel like you are not achieving anything.'

Albus could not believe that his father could see him so well, with such profound and wise understanding. He was filled with another wave of respect for this amazing man. It seemed appropriate for him to speak at this point, so he did.

'It is simply that I do not feel like I am making any progress, father,' Albus said. 'You deceive me at every turn with your spells. You use Legilimency to delve deep into my mind and I am unable to use it in return, for your Occlumency is too powerful for me. I feel hopeless.'

'My son,' Archaeon said, pulling Albus even further into his embrace. 'You forget that I am one of the world's most powerful wizards, if I may lose the modesty for a moment. Part of the reason why I continue to defeat you is because you do not concentrate entirely on the task at hand, but most of the reason is that I am simply too strong for you. I do, however, have the benefit of being able to measure you against myself. Take my word for it, Albus Dumbledore; you have made significant gains this summer. I assure you, that with devoted practice at school this year, you will learn to perform both Legilimency and Occlumency before the year is out.'

Albus permitted himself a smile for the first time in weeks. He felt all the resentment of the past weeks dropping away. Even the thought of Victoria's death seemed a little less painful in that moment, but he was reminded that it was ever present in his thoughts.

'Father, how am I to forget about Victoria?' Albus asked sincerely. 'I know I can never forget her completely, but if I am to move on, then I have to stop feeling this way all the time.'

'It is not easy,' Archaeon admitted, 'and I am no expert in matters of the heart such as this one. That is why I recommended that you take the subjects of Divination and Care of Magical Creatures this year. Both will give you some respite from the darkness in your heart. However, it remains for you to make that step yourself. At some point you must say to yourself that Victoria is gone, she is never coming back, and you must simply move on.'

Albus had no answer for this, but he knew his father was right. It had actually taken little convincing to get Albus to take Care of Magical Creatures. He had met the teacher of this subject in his second year. Professor Equus, also nicknamed the Horse Man, was an ancient human being who existed as a young and immortal horse when not in human form. He was older than almost anything Albus had ever heard of, and he was keen to learn from this source of immense and timeless wisdom. Divination had been another matter, and Albus had favoured the study of Arithmancy. When Archaeon had informed Albus that Arithmancy was nothing more than Divination masquerading as a proper art, Albus had relented and gone with the subject taught by the celebrated Seer, Cassandra Trelawney.

'Come now, it is time you went inside and prepared for dinner,' Archaeon said. 'Your mother will not be impressed if you attend tonight's meal with dirt all over your arms and legs.'

Albus happily went indoors to take a hot bath drawn for him by the Dumbledore's house elf, Nibs. He allowed himself to feel excited at the prospect of tonight's dinner. The Dumbledore's had invited the Jones family over to celebrate all the good news that had just recently arrived in the mail. Their oldest son, Thomas was, of course, the new Head Prefect of Hogwarts after his triumph in the Triwizard Tournament. That; and he continued to act as Gryffindor's Quidditch Captain. Albus was faintly aware of a promise Thomas had made about making him Seeker in his third year, and he wanted to drop that into conversation tonight in the hope that Thomas remembered. In addition, the second brother Gareth had been appointed a Prefect. Gareth was a Ravenclaw going into his fifth year. Albus' own brother Aberforth had not been made a Prefect, but that was no surprise given that Aberforth was one of the school's leading pranksters. Albus was actually the school's premier prankster, being the founder and leader of a Gryffindor organization known as the Guardians of Gryffindor, of Justice and Victory, Defenders of Truth and Pirates of Points Undeserved, or more commonly, the Pirates. However, this brought more painful thoughts to mind, because the Pirates had lost one of their number; in Victoria Moody.

The Dumbledore family had cause to celebrate because Albus had returned some excellent examination results despite the grief that had threatened to derail him. He had narrowly fended off Ravenclaw's Jenning Ranger for first place among the second years. Furthermore, Aberforth had exceeded his parents' expectations by passing everything and winning a place in fifth year, where he would be sitting his OWL qualifications. Needless to say, the Joneses and the Dumbledores had plenty to celebrate, and it promised to be a pleasant dinner.

So it was with the lightest spirits Albus had felt in months that he welcomed his blonde, blue-eyed friends the Jones brothers into their mansion that evening. Aberforth wore a glint in his eye that suggested he planned to spike all four adults' drinks with Firewhisky, as he had done one memorable Christmas. Thomas was looking mighty formal in a dress robe; and the titles of Triwizard Champion and Head Prefect of Hogwarts seemed to have given him an added aura. For once, Albus felt intimidated by this tall and handsome young man. Gareth, too, had grown during the summer. He quickly ingratiated himself with Aberforth and the pair went to the kitchen to enact their mischief. Thomas sat down with the adults to discuss matters that went above Albus' head, so he was left in the company of Davey, the youngest of the Joneses. Davey was in Albus' year, in Hufflepuff. He had always been a slightly shy boy, but now that he was thirteen and starting to grow tall, like his brothers, his confidence had risen. He regaled Albus with enthusiastic tales about the seaside adventures he and his family and been on.

Albus liked Davey, but did not consider them very close friends. He realised that he missed his best friend, Mars McGonagal, as he had done all summer. Normally Mars came home with Albus for the holidays, but after the scandal at the Temple of Ast, Mars' parents had taken an unusual level of interest in their son for the first time in his life, and promised him a rare holiday. Archaeon had actually expressed a concern that the McGonagals might have been demonstrating a newfound distrust of the Dumbledores. Archaeon had not won many friends at the Ministry for Magic by exposing the Germans, Russians, and indeed, some of the Ministry's own as complicit in the dark and evil plot to steal the Everlasting Flame. Albus really hoped that his friendship with Mars would not be tarnished by politics.

Dinner was served by Nibs, and true to Aberforth's obvious intentions, the four adults were soon giggling their heads off, as drunk as babies on butterbeer. Aberforth and Gareth laughed hysterically, before excusing themselves to go and secretly drink an entire bottle of Firewhisky together in Aberforth's room. With Davey looking decidedly sleepy after six helpings of blueberry tart, Albus finally had the ear of Thomas to himself.

'Er, Thomas,' Albus said, hardly believing that he could feel so nervous talking to the boy he helped win last year's Tournament, 'do you remember how you said that when Jonathan Glastonbury left Hogwarts you'd need a new Seeker for the Quidditch Team?'

Albus had spoken very rapidly. He had to take a deep breath. In the pause, Thomas grinned and ruffled Albus' hair very lightly.

'No, Albus, I have _not_ forgotten my promise to you,' he said. 'Of course I plan to use your talents on a broomstick. I trust you have been taking good care of your Cleansweep Two with that Broom Polishing Kit I gave you.'

'Yes, sir,' Albus said.

'I am not "sir",' Thomas chuckled. 'I'm still indebted to you for the way you gave everything to help me win the Triwizard Tournament. And I still feel dreadful for the way it ended. Have you… are you…?'

Albus decided that it was time to put on a brave face and let bygones be bygones.

'Yes, I am starting to move past it,' Albus said. 'It has not been the best of summers, but I feel that maybe a new year at Hogwarts will help me to move forward. It would be especially helpful if I had something like Quidditch to keep me busy.'

'Of course,' Thomas said, sounding relieved to hear that Albus was okay. 'Naturally, I shall have to have trials, and other people will try out for the post of Seeker. But if you can perform as you have done in the past, you should be a shoe-in for the job. You have been practicing, I hope?'

'A little,' Albus said sheepishly. He had only managed a few forays into the field with Aberforth, but it had been difficult not having the Jones brothers around to practice with.

'Do not worry,' Thomas said, 'I am a tad out of practice myself. We have a week before school starts, so how about the five of us get together every afternoon and play a few games?'

'Yeah,' Davey added enthusiastically. 'I want to try out for Hufflepuff this year.'

'That would be great,' Albus said, 'but it depends on whether Gareth and Aberforth are able after they have downed a whole bottle of Firewhisky together.'

'They can fly drunk,' Thomas said whimsically. The three boys laughed in merriment.

So it was that the Jones brothers joined the Dumbledore brothers over the next week out in a field surrounded by tall trees, hidden from the curious eyes of muggles. They engaged in several thrilling games of Quidditch, and Albus soon regained the confidence he'd had on broomstick in his first year at Hogwarts. Then, he'd helped Gryffindor gain a memorable victory over their vicious rivals in Slytherin. Now, he hoped he could become fit enough and fast enough to hold down a permanent place on the Gryffindor team. Seekers were normally small and compact, and the longer Albus' legs and arms grew, the less likely he'd be able to be a successful Seeker. So Albus knew that this could be his last year as a Seeker, and made every effort to practice hard with Aberforth and the Joneses.

And for the first time since Victoria Moody had died in the Temple of Ast almost three months prior, Albus started to feel like a whole person again. It was a heady feeling, using his facial muscles to smile again and feeling happy inside. It also happened that Albus stopped waking up in the middle of the night sweating and remembering the moment Jannes Grundelwald had said _'Avada Kedavra'_ and sent Victoria Moody's body crashing to the floor. The dark memories were slowly leaving him. Albus was starting to get on with his life.

* * *

Author's Note: And thus begins the much anticipated third story in Albus' time at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I have literally received dozens of reviews requesting that I write all seven stories over the past months, and I cannot refuse when you all ask so nicely. I do hope you enjoy this latest instalment. Enjoy, read and review! Your loyal Grandson of Dumbledore. 


	2. A Birthday Surprise

Albus Dumbledore and the Wizard's Ruse

Book Three of the _Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts _Series

* * *

Disclaimer: this is a work of fan fiction based on the worlds created by JK Rowling. The story is written for entertainment and not for profit.

Author's Note: Thank you everyone for your wonderfully positive and supportive reviews. I am so pleased to be welcomed back with open arms by so many of you. It makes the process of writing so much easier when you are appreciated. I just want to remind everyone that I am working on my own children's book at the moment, as well as a day job, so the frequency of updates will depend on how busy I am. I will do my best to update at least once a week.

* * *

"The secret of a good surprise, is keeping the fact that you have a secret; a surprise."

Chapter 2 – A Birthday Surprise

On the last day of August, 1854, Lubo Dumbledore woke her two sons early with the news that they were to travel to Diagon Alley by floo powder to collect their books and equipment for the new school year. Albus had mixed feelings now that this day was here. A part of him was thrilled that his return to Hogwarts was just a day away, and another part dreaded the prospect of going back to a school that no longer contained Victoria Moody. If there was one positive to be gained, it was that Albus' old enemy Noxious Black would also be absent. After the disgraceful death of his father, Noxious was being sent to a school in a foreign country. Albus thought it was most probably the Black Forest School of Magical Arts.

The Dumbledore family; with the exception of Archaeon who was preparing for his latest archaeowizarding dig; stepped into their fireplace one by one and were whisked through the floo network to Diagon Alley. They stepped out into the sun-soaked street and Albus breathed in the sights and sounds of the wizarding world's centre of commerce. Witches in rags hawked dead spiders on the corner of a street. Something that looked suspiciously like a ghoul took fright when they walked past and sped off down the dark and dingy Knockturn Alley. Hundreds of witches and wizards bustled to and fro down the main cobbled street and their cheerful chatter created a hum in the air.

'I must collect some supplies of my own,' Lubo said to her two sons. Albus and Aberforth's beautiful mother had shimmering white hair running down the sides of her face, and wore a silky purple dress decorated with yellow stars, with a purple shawl over her head and shoulders. Her skin was pale and luminous, and as ever, Albus was sure she had an aura which separated her from everyone else on the street.

'Since when do you need supplies, mother?' Aberforth asked.

'Since mind your own business, child,' Lubo said. She smiled thinly, and led them into a store called _Olde Eggs Odds 'n Ends. _It was a dark and gloomy store, with high shelves placed close together so that one had to walk like a crab to move down the aisles. It was impossible to turn around once you had started down an aisle, and you could only move at a shuffle. The boys' eyes quickly lit on some of the unusual items for sale in the shop.

'Look at this place,' Aberforth exclaimed. 'This is the shop I've been waiting for my whole life.'

'Now, Aberforth Dumbledore;' Lubo said, 'behave yourself whilst I make my purchases.'

There was little chance of that happening, as Aberforth made a beeline for a pile of strange brown crusts that might just have been dried dragon's dung. Albus chuckled at his brother before trying to squeeze his way down one of the aisles. He was curious as to what he might find in the shop.

The shelves were covered with the strangest assortment of items Albus thought he'd ever seen in a wizarding shop. There were old eggs, true to the name of the shop, but from their shriveled green and mottled shells Albus thought they must be at least a hundred years old. There were dead scorpions in jars, beetle's brains, strange vines in pots that looked ready to throttle you if you came too close, and plenty more. In all, the shop contained such an unusual array of items that Albus was prompted to make a remark to his brother from across the way.

'This looks just like the sort of place where that evil hag of a Potions Mistress might buy her …'

Albus stopped dead and his heart went through the floor. Just as he'd made the comment, none other than the Hogwart's Potions Mistress, Professor Elvira Rookwood, had walked in through the shop door. She gave Albus a withering look, and he knew at once that his chances of coming top in Potions were nil this year. Not that he'd ever been top; Professor Rookwood favoured her house, Slytherin, far too much to ever award a Gryffindor student with top marks.

Aberforth found Albus hiding in a corner of the shop looking deathly pale.

'Lucky it was not the school year yet, brother, or you would have lost Gryffindor another four hundred points,' Aberforth chuckled.

Albus grinned weakly. He had developed a nasty habit of losing Gryffindor vast numbers of points. In both his first and second years at Hogwarts, Albus had caused the bottom to fall out of the Gryffindor points counter. It was almost exclusively due to his Pirate pranks. Fortunately Albus had become an expert at winning back those points, and more, so Gryffindor were currently two-time champions in the House Cup. But one thing was for sure; Albus did not want to lose any points at all this year if he could help it.

Professor Rookwood did not take long to purchase whatever it was she needed, so Albus was able to breathe easier once she was gone. Whatever his mother was doing seemed to be taking hours, so Albus started browsing the densely-packed aisles again. He stopped in his tracks when he saw a crystal ball.

For one heart-stopping moment, Albus was convinced he'd stumbled on one of the incredibly rare Orbs of Duality. Albus had been the owner of one last year; he'd received it from his phoenix, Fawkes. The Orb of Duality was a device that told one absolute truth and/or one lie when you asked it a question. It had proven extremely useful last year as Albus had used it to help Thomas Jones win the Triwizard Tournament. Unfortunately, the Orb had been stolen by Grindelwald Grundelwald, the ten year old brother of the German Triwizard contestant.

'That, my son; is a crystal ball for Divination,' Lubo Dumbledore said. Albus nearly toppled backward into the shelf behind him. His mother had seemingly materialized out of thin air beside him. She was holding a bag full of purchases in her left hand, and had noticed Albus' intense interest in the round crystal ball.

'Oh, yes,' Albus said, realizing it for what it was. 'Yes, I know that.'

'You are taking Divination this year?' she said.

'Yes, mother,' Albus replied. 'You do not suppose I shall need one of those?'

'It is not on your list from Hogwarts,' Lubo said, consulting the letter that Deputy Headmaster Leon Bones had sent him in the mail. 'Come, we must obtain your textbooks and hurry back to Wales by floo.'

'Why are we in a hurry, mother?' asked Aberforth, 'and what have you got there?'

Albus and Aberforth both peered at Lubo's bag, curious to see what she'd bought. Albus was convinced he saw the peak of a witch's hat, which was strange, seeing as he'd never seen his mother wearing one in all the years he'd been alive. There was also a book in her bag, the title of which began with the letter 'D'. But he never got to see the rest of it because Lubo hid the contents of the bag under her shawl.

'Mind your own business, for the second time this morning,' Lubo said. 'I have things to do back at home, and it is not your place to know what your mother purchases. Now hurry along to _Flourish and Blotts_, will you?'

They duly made their way to the bookstore. Aberforth persisted in trying to catch a glimpse of his mother's secret purchases and ultimately went too far, trying to cast a summoning charm on the bag. Lubo threw a hail of spells at him so that his face was covered in pimples and his hair was a shade of vomit. The looks of disgust from girls and laughter from boys walking by on the street turned Aberforth's face a shade of crimson, and Albus didn't try to pursue the mystery of the secret purchases for fear of getting a similar punishment.

Inside _Flourish and Blotts,_ Lubo bought her sons the textbooks they'd need for the new school year. Aberforth had to get a range of OWL level books. Albus' booklist had a familiar ring to it, with a few new titles to cover the subjects he was starting for the first time: _Standard Book of Spells – Grade Three _(Albus got his mother to buy him _Grade Four_ and _Five_ for good measure), _Transfiguration for Intermediates, Magical Herbs and their Uses, Ye Olde Arte of Brewing Potions, Finding the Inner Eye, Magykel Beastes_ and _Self Defense for Young Witches and Wizards. _While Albus was collecting his texts, he ran into his shaggy-haired friend from Gryffindor House, William Potter.

'William!' Albus exclaimed when he saw his friend giving him strange looks from across the room. William approached tentatively, looking awkward at first. Albus pretended not to notice and gave the tall boy a playful punch on the shoulder. 'It is good to see you after all these months. How has your summer been?'

William looked relieved that Albus hadn't bitten off his head or something, and launched into a full description of his trip to the south of France on a very expensive holiday. Albus realized that Victoria's death would cast a pall over his relationships with the other Pirates unless he was cheerful and acted like he had overcome his grief.

'…and we returned just yesterday,' William concluded, after jabbering for about five minutes. 'Ah, I see you have bought the new textbooks. Let me see, I've yet to buy mine.'

Albus showed William the various titles. They both had a good laugh about the Divination one.

'"_Finding the Inner Eye",'_ Albus said. 'It sounds like a load of dragon's dung if you ask me.'

'A truly great pile of dragon's dung,' said William, who had also elected to take Divination and Care of Magical Creatures because Arithmancy and Runes had sounded too difficult. 'The Charms, Transfiguration, Defense against the Dark Arts and Potions texts all sound boring, as usual.'

'Particularly Potions,' Albus said, before biting down hard on his tongue. He quickly spun around to see if Professor Rookwood had overheard him a second time. Fortunately, the scowling Potions Mistress was nowhere to be seen.

'I am disappointed you think so poorly of the Defense against the Dark Arts text before you have even glanced at it,' Lubo said, appearing suddenly at Albus' side.

'I am sorry, Mrs Dumbledore,' William said, going a shade of beetroot. 'I did not know you wrote it.'

'Alas, I am not the author,' Lubo said. Albus and William waited for her to say something else, but she turned around to look for Aberforth. William frowned at Albus, as if to say, 'What was that about?' Albus could only shrug in reply.

'Come, Albus, I have spotted your brother, and it is time for us to depart,' Lubo said. 'Have a safe journey to Hogwarts, William, and be sure to read that textbook and correct your opinion of it.'

William looked even more astonished by Lubo's strange words. He and Albus said their goodbyes, and then Albus and Aberforth followed their mother to the nearest fireplace. As he spun around in the flames and shot through the floo network back to the Dumbledore mansion, Albus wondered why his mother was speaking in such a cryptic fashion. There was a faint possibility that had reared in his head, but he'd dismissed it as impossible. Surely not. It could not be. Or could it?

* * *

That evening Albus packed his trunk in preparation for his third year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This was an annual ritual where Albus could take stock of all his worldly possessions. It was a powerful feeling for a young man to know precisely what belonged to him and him alone in the entire world. Into the bottom of the trunk he laid down his heaviest and most prized books: _A Better Way to Transfigure _and _Magyk Before the Fall of Empyres,_ Achmed al-Mohammad's famous historical magical text. Next he laid down his favourite purple robe with yellow stars, and the striped scarlet and green Caerphilly Catapults uniform he treasured. It was third year, so Albus and his friends were to be permitted to go to the village of Hogsmeade every few weekends, which meant Albus had to have some casual clothes to wear. He packed in his school robes, socks and shoes, all of which had been enlarged using a spell by Lubo. 'Why waste money on new clothes when you can simply enlarge the old ones,' she'd said. Albus figured it made sense; he'd been growing so fast that his parents would be bankrupted if they had to buy new clothes for him every three months.

Albus also packed in his broom polishing kit and the golden Egyptian ankh with the blue sapphire embedded in it that had saved his life on more than one occasion last year. He added the Star Pointer that his mother had given him and last, but not least, Albus carefully laid down his 12½ inch willow wand with its fabulous unicorn tail and phoenix feather core. Albus was immensely proud of his wand. It was his premier possession.

There were two more possessions to go with the trunk, but they were too big to fit inside. One was Fawkes' handsome mahogany stand, and the other was Albus' Cleansweep Two broom. Albus admired his belongings and thought back to the day in his second year when he'd arrived in the dormitory to discover that all of it had been destroyed in a savage attack. His parents had been kind enough to replace it all for him, but it had left him shaken and vulnerable. The culprit had never been identified, but Albus was certain that it had been Grindelwald.

'Albus, will you kindly bring yourself downstairs?' Lubo asked from behind him. For the second time that day Albus nearly jumped out of his skin. His mother had apparated from downstairs into his room with startling subtlety.

'Please refrain from doing that,' Albus said. 'You scared the life out of me.'

'Hmm,' Lubo mused, 'perhaps you need to work on awareness of your surroundings. It is useful in the art of defending against the enemy.'

With that cryptic statement she disapparated again, and Albus was left scratching his head. Surely his mother was not coming to… No, Albus pushed the thought out of his head. She had said nothing of the sort all summer and it simply was not possible. The very idea was preposterous. He forgot all about it and apparated downstairs.

'Surprise!'

Albus was greeted by a wall of noise when he appeared in the living room. More than a dozen familiar faces beamed at him underneath a very large banner that read, 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALBUS PERCIVAL WULFRIC BRIAN DUMBLEDORE!'

He found himself swaddled in a hug from four different girls at the same time. Emily Marchbanks, Maggie Weasley, Elizabeth Figg and Annabel Bradshaw had all descended on him at once. He had to extricate himself from their tangled grasp. All four tried speaking simultaneously.

'So good to see you…'

'You look ever so much taller…'

'My how you have grown…'

'Albus, I have been looking forward to seeing you again,' said Emily, the one who won out amid the four voices. The grand-daughter of Griselda Marchbanks, convener of the OWL and NEWT examinations; Emily had always been an authoritative figure among the girls. She too had grown over the summer, and wore her curly blonde hair in a bun above her severe grey eyes.

'I am pleased to see you all in return,' Albus said, smiling. It was painful to think that these four girls had once been five, but Albus quickly put Victoria out of mind. 'Thank you for coming to my birthday. I had not the faintest idea that this was going to happen.'

'Your parents are skilled at keeping things from you,' Emily said.

'Didn't you say in your last letter that your father was teaching you Legilimency?' Mars McGonagal asked. The other four third year Gryffindor boys had joined the girls in crowding around Albus. 'I expected better of you.'

'I would like to see you try and use Legilimency on Archaeon Dumbledore, Mars,' Albus said. He hesitated a moment before lightly punching Mars on the shoulder. Mars punched him back and before you could say 'Quidditch', the five boys were tussling on the carpet. Albus laughed wildly, delighted that whatever problems Mr. and Mrs. McGonagal had with his parents, at least Mars was still his best friend.

'Oh boys, do grow up!' Maggie Weasley said crossly, her hands on her hips. The four girls clicked their tongues and shook their heads like little adults, but it made little difference. William, Edward, Alabastor, Mars and Albus were all so happy to be reunited that they weren't going to listen to a bunch of girls. It took the booming voice of Archaeon Dumbledore to put an end to the ruckus.

'That is quite enough, boys,' Archaeon said. 'Come over here, Albus. Nibs has baked a scrumptious looking cake and we would all very much like to sing for you.'

Albus unlocked his head from the crook of Alabastor's elbow and struggled to release his ankle from Mars' grasp. The five boys dusted themselves off and made their way to the living room table, where a five-storied chocolate cake glistened under the light of the thirteen candles. Albus noticed that the Jones brothers were also present. Aberforth, Lubo and Archaeon stood behind the cake, fondly watching as Albus prepared to blow the candles out.

'It is not yet your birthday,' Lubo cautioned, 'but seeing as you will be at Hogwarts' Sorting Feast tomorrow night, we all thought you deserved a celebration of your thirteenth birthday at home.'

'The unlucky thirteen,' Aberforth pointed out.

'Ooh,' Alabastor crowed. 'Will Dumbledore fail a test this year?'

'Or worse,' William said with a wicked grin, 'come second to Jenning Ranger in the exams?'

'I know, he will lose Gryffindor another four hundred points with a Pirates prank,' Mars said.

'Will you lot shut your horrid mouths?' cried the unexpected voice of Thomas Jones. 'I am determined to hold aloft both the House Cup and the Quidditch Cup this year, and if you lot put a jinx on Albus then I shall be livid!'

'There will be no jinxing of anyone at Hogwarts,' Lubo said mysteriously. 'Not this year, at any rate.'

Nobody knew quite what to say after this, and Albus got another strange look from William. He himself was growing increasingly convinced that his mother was up to something very peculiar.

'Come on, dear Albus,' Emily said. 'Blow out the candles!'

Albus took a deep breath and blew the candles out in one go. Lubo produced a knife out of thin air and started dishing out large slices of gooey chocolate cake.

'Make sure you eat over your plates,' Lubo said. 'I do not wish to be magicking the house clean for a second time today.'

Albus giggled at his mother's quaint sense of humour. It only took her one flick of the wand to clean a room. While it was Archaeon who commanded huge respect from the wizarding community, Albus knew that his mother was a formidable witch when she put her mind to it.

The time came for presents; and it seemed as though everyone had brought something for Albus. By the time he had unwrapped them all, it was the largest pile of gifts he had ever received. The Gryffindor third years had combined to buy Albus a complete set of Caerphilly Catapults Collectors Cards.

'We have each accumulated our own teams over the holidays,' William explained, 'so we thought you ought to have your team so that we can play trading games this year.'

'I did not approve,' Emily felt compelled to say, 'as card games are a waste of time. But the boys insisted on it.'

The Jones brothers gave Albus a richly illustrated book called _Seeking in Style. _It gave vivid descriptions on how to be a good Seeker in the game of Quidditch, with pictures in which the subjects kept demonstrating the various moves over and over again, right before Albus' glowing eyes. Aberforth gave Albus a bottle of butterbeer, but was quick to whisper something in his ear when he got it.

'It is not butterbeer,' Aberforth hissed, 'sample it and you shall find the heady taste of Firewhisky instead, my little brother.'

Albus grinned. Aberforth was fond of Firewhisky. He did not quite know what he was going to do with the powerful drink, but he figured that it might prove useful at some point during the year. Perhaps as part of a prank, Albus thought wickedly.

From Lubo, Albus received the crystal divination ball he had been staring at in _Olde Eggs Odds 'n Ends_ that morning.

'When did you buy this?' Albus asked. 'We left the store at the same time and you came back with us by floo powder.' Lubo was in a mood for keeping secrets that day, however, and remained serenely tight-lipped.

The final gift Albus opened was from his father. As usual, it was an exceptionally well chosen gift, and a fine one at that. It was a vast book with a brown leather cover. The title was inscribed into the leather using fine gold filigree: _Into The Mind of Thine Enemy – A Quide to The Artes of Legilimency and Occlumency_ by _Bagtrand Smythe. _Albus could barely speak he was so pleased by the gift. All he could think was that he would have to unpack his trunk and repack everything.

'Thank you,' Albus said, looking around fondly at all the most important people in his life. 'Thank you all. This has been the best birthday of my life, even though it isn't yet my birthday.'

Albus received a round of smiles and hugs before people started to take their leave. The Dumbledore fireplace was used to transport all eight of the third year Gryffindors to their respective homes, followed by the three Jones brothers. Lubo had to go in chase of Aberforth, who had filched the last remaining layer of chocolate cake for himself. Albus was left alone with his father.

'Well, my boy,' Archaeon said, 'the time is upon us for us to part again. You leave for Hogwarts tomorrow, and I leave for the East Indies.'

'Are you not going back to Egypt?' Albus asked.

'No,' Archaeon said, 'at least, not for the time being. I must pursue some ancient Indian artifacts. I have to confess, I wish to see the back of Egypt for a time. There are too many painful experiences buried in the sands of those deserts.'

Albus silently agreed. In Albus' first year, Archaeon had been taken prisoner by Phineas Nigellus and forced underground to help raise Imhotep from the dead. The events of last year, of course, remained fresh in both their memories.

'Who will teach me Legilimency and Occlumency in your absence?' Albus asked.

'That textbook is a fine work,' Archaeon said, 'and you will learn much from browsing its pages. There is, however, a very competent teacher at Hogwarts who has agreed to instruct you.'

'Who is it, father?' Albus asked urgently. 'Do tell me.'

'My dry lips are sealed,' Archaeon said. 'And the time is late, my son. I believe you were thinking about repacking your trunk before you go to bed. You had better get to work.'

'Father,' Albus groaned. 'Do stop reading my mind.'

'Until you learn how to block me,' Archaeon said with a grin, 'I will not desist.'

Albus knew that a challenge had been laid and that he had no choice but to meet it that year at Hogwarts. He hoped that whoever this teacher was, they'd be good enough to teach him Occlumency of a standard good enough to resist Archaeon Dumbledore.

Albus apparated upstairs with his precious new belongings and reordered his trunk. By the time he was finished it actually was Albus' birthday, with the old clock on his wall reading five past midnight. He crawled wearily into bed and fell asleep almost instantly, put to sleep by the crooning of his beloved phoenix that was roosting on the mahogany stand. Another grand year at Hogwarts awaited Albus Dumbledore.

* * *

Author's Note: a reviewer made a very valid comment about the speech my characters using being inconsistent. Sometimes I write very old fashioned sentences, and other sentences are more modern. This is my own mistake and I do my very best to remain consistent. It is difficult trying to write a fast paced adventure when your characters speak like 19th century Brits! I promise to keep working on this aspect of my story. 


	3. Back to Hogwarts

Albus Dumbledore and the Wizard's Ruse

Book Three of the _Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts _Series

Disclaimer: this is a work of fan fiction based on the worlds created by JK Rowling. The story is written for entertainment and not for profit.

Author's Note: Thanks once again to my lovely reviewers. I have little to say, really. Just enjoy this latest chapter in Albus' adventure.

* * *

"Every self-respecting young man steps forth into the world with an eye for adventure."

Chapter 3 – Back to Hogwarts

The morning following his birthday party, Albus awoke for the first time as a teenager. He was quick to dress and hurriedly checked his trunk for about the fiftieth time to make sure that he had packed everything he wished to take with him to Hogwarts. After a hearty breakfast of frizzled bacon, frazzled toast and frozzled eggs by Nibs, the house elf, the Dumbledores made ready for their departure. Except Lubo did not appear as though she intended on coming with them.

'Are you not coming to London with us, mother?' Albus asked.

'No, my son,' she replied. 'I have pressing matters that call for my attention. I will, however, bid you goodbye here and now.'

To Albus' mind, that put the issue to rest. There could be no way Lubo was doing what he thought she was doing if she was prepared to say goodbye to him now. What would be the point of saying goodbye if you were going to see a person again in a few short hours? No, Albus decided, that settled it.

'Goodbye, mother,' Albus said. 'I shall see you in the holidays.'

'I am certain that you shall see me in the holidays,' Lubo said, smiling down at her son. She gave him a peck on the cheek and attempted to do the same to Aberforth, who ran away. Lubo gave chase by apparating to wherever Aberforth was running. She finally caught him on the hop and administered a kiss to his cheek also.

'Mother,' Aberforth groaned. 'I am fifteen years old. I am too old for that.'

'You are never too old for a kiss,' Lubo said, as she leaned up to give Archaeon a kiss on his bearded cheek. This made Aberforth groan even louder.

'Farewell, my dear,' Archaeon said. 'Methinks you are making your sons embarrassed. Come, boys, let us away to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. We ought not to be late.'

At a quarter to eleven, Albus found himself saying goodbye to his father on Platform 9¾, his trunk, broomstick and Fawkes' stand beside him.

'As ever, my son, the eyes and ears of Hogwarts will be trained upon you to see that you do not come to any harm,' Archaeon said. 'I might add that in the absence of a Triwizard Tournament, it should be a trifle easier to stay out of trouble. Nevertheless, be cautious and do not do anything that might put you in danger's way.'

'I promise not to, father,' Albus said. He was quite sincere in his promise; he had no intention of enduring a repeat of last year. He'd had about all the death and Dark Wizards he could take as a boy.

'As for your studies,' Archaeon continued, 'now is the age when your abilities start to develop at quite a rapid pace. I recall my own third year at Hogwarts. The best spell I had at the beginning of that year was an effective summoning charm. By the end of my third year, I was able to generate a corporeal patronus and my transfiguration improved tenfold. I expect you will take to Legilimency and Occlumency in good time. Be patient and results will come.'

Albus nodded soberly. He hadn't quite gotten over the fact that he'd gone an entire summer without being able to make a dent in the arts of Legilimency and Occlumency. He hoped that Archaeon was right about his talents developing faster. He was certainly growing faster. Perhaps magical powers grew at a similar rate to physical development.

'Have a safe journey to the East Indies,' Albus said, 'and make sure you take me there on at least one occasion this year.'

Archaeon chuckled as his son's nerve.

'You have developed quite a cheek, my boy,' Archaeon said, his blue eyes twinkling even as his face pretended to be stern. 'I shall certainly endeavour to remain safe whilst on my expedition; you needn't be worried about that. As for your request, I shall think upon it. Farewell for the time being.'

'Goodbye, father,' Albus said. He hugged his father and for the first time was able to peer over Archaeon Dumbledore's broad shoulders.

Albus left Aberforth to face another lecture from his father about OWL year and how he wasn't to kidnap any Ravenclaw girls this year or there would be a Howler a week sent to the Great Hall. Albus lugged his trunk, the stand and the broom onto the train and went in search of a cabin for the journey ahead.

As was the custom, the five Gryffindor third year boys found themselves in the same cabin, luggage squashed haphazardly into the storage space above. As they hadn't had time at last night's birthday party to properly describe their holidays, the cabin rang with the sound of stories being exchanged. Shortly after the train started moving, Albus found himself the centre of attention as the other four sought to learn about his lessons with Archaeon.

'Do tell us about it, Albus,' Alabastor Meadowes said. 'I have been wondering all summer how your lessons have been progressing.'

'I must confess to you all that it has been slow going,' Albus said. He had been tempted to exaggerate his efforts, but knew that if he did, they would all demand a demonstration of Legilimency and he wouldn't be able to walk the talk. 'My father is such a powerful wizard and I have found it impossible to make progress. He says that I am to be given lessons in Legilimency and Occlumency this year by a teacher at Hogwarts, but I do not know from whom.'

'Caretaker Odrick Olsen, I expect,' Alabastor quipped.

'What of Professor Longbottom?' the normally quiet Edward Stephenson joined in on the joke. The Herbology Master was notoriously slow-witted.

'Alas, I believe Professor Rookwood is fond of Albus,' Mars said gleefully. Albus grinned at his friends, pleased that there wasn't a specter hanging over the cabin, and all five were in a mood for mirth. He did, however, hope that none of them were correct in their speculation. At the very least he expected his mystery tutor to be someone more than half competent, like Professors Bones or Prewett.

'I shall bet Professor Cassandra Trelawney will be tutoring Albus,' William guffawed. 'She would get him to peer into his Inner Eye.'

'Does Albus even have an Inner Eye?' Mars asked.

'I have an Inner Eye,' Alabastor grinned, pointing at his trousers. This first dirty joke ever uttered between them hung like a foul smell for a fraction of a second before the cabin exploded with laughter. Tears ran down the boys' faces as they pounded their fists on the seats. It wasn't that the joke was particularly funny; it was that all five boys were pleased to have broached a subject that all of them desperately wished to talk about, but none of them knew how. Turning thirteen was a particularly awkward business in 19th Century wizarding society, where all things to do with puberty were considered taboo.

'Let me tell you, Alabastor D. Meadowes,' William said loudly once the laughter had died down somewhat, 'The Inner Eye I have sees more than your Inner Eye ever will.'

'My middle name does not begin with D, I'll have you…'

Alabastor was interrupted by the sound of the cabin being entered by the four Gryffindor third year girls.

'I heard a considerable part of that conversation, boys,' Emily said. She wore a prim expression. 'I will have you know it is most disgusting.'

'You boys have foul mouths and even fouler minds,' Maggie said.

'I beg your pardon,' William said, 'Albus; will you clarify something for me? Which is the greater sin? Making a joke or eavesdropping on someone else's conversation?'

'I would have to say, eavesdropping,' Albus said, giving the girls an "argue with me if you dare" expression.

'Fine, be obnoxious then,' Emily snarled. 'See if we care.'

With a swirl of their robes, all four of the girls stuck their noses in the air and stormed out again. Elizabeth made sure she slammed the door behind her.

'That disposed of them fairly smartly,' Alabastor said. He wore a smug look on his face.

'Now where were we when we were so rudely interrupted?' William asked.

'For the life of Merlin, I cannot remember,' Mars said.

'Exploding snap, anyone?' Edward suggested. The boys leaned in and got started on a ferocious game that singed everyone's robes and had Albus sending jets of water all over the cabin every couple of minutes to extinguish small fires.

Later on in their journey the boys became worn out by their frequent disputes over the rules of the game (which were quite simple but could easily be distorted by whosoever thought they were being cheated of a rightful victory). William fell asleep against the window, his mouth hanging open and a line of drool running down the glass. Alabastor delighted in trying to place exploding snap cards inside William's mouth but could not get any of them to explode. Edward buried himself in a textbook, which was habit for him. Being a muggle he had always been a little behind his classmates, and had to work twice as hard as anyone else to keep up.

This left Mars and Albus in idle conversation. Albus keenly wanted to bring up the topic of Mars' parents. He was worried that something lay beneath the surface between them, and wanted it addressed before the school year commenced. After half an hour of debating within his head, Albus finally decided to bring it up.

'Ahem, Mars,' Albus said, 'are you aware… I mean to say… well, my parents have talked about it a few times and… and I think… I mean to say, I was wondering…'

'Merlin's beard,' Mars exclaimed. 'Have you lost your marbles on the staircase? What is it you are trying to say?'

Albus opened his mouth and let out a whole blather of words without taking a breath.

'After that thing in the Chamber of the Everlasting Flame with Imhotep and the Ministry and Victoria and everything else that happened your parents took you on a holiday for a change and my parents thought that perhaps they did not like we Dumbledores anymore and were going to forbid you from being my friend so I have been a touch worried, if you see my meaning.'

Mars closed his green eyes and let out a bellow of laughter. He laughed so loudly that it woke William, who gagged on an exploding snap card which promptly exploded in his mouth. Alabastor let out a whoop of triumph. Smoke started billowing from William's mouth, prompting the other four to start giggling like hysterical girls again.

'Hal-buth!' cried William, 'Hal-buth, puth ith outh!'

Albus had to fight back the tears so that he could concentrate on firing an _Aquana_ spell directly into William's burning mouth. He eventually succeeded and a hiss of steam filled the cabin. William turned on Alabastor with his own wand and soon a vicious battle was underway. The other three watched avidly as both boys made sure the other one would look a pretty picture by the time they arrived at Hogwarts. It took half an hour before the cabin was settled again and Albus could get his answer out of Mars.

'Well, have you an answer to my question besides laughing at my expense?' Albus said.

'I was not laughing at your expense,' Mars said. 'I was laughing simply because of your profound nervousness. It was as though we had just met and you were seeking my friendship. We are already friends, Albus, and nought can or will change that.'

Albus breathed a sigh of relief. His heart felt a pound or two lighter upon hearing those words.

'But; what of your parents?' Albus asked.

'Ah, your assumptions were correct,' Mars said, running a hand through his sandy brown hair. 'My parents were indeed upset with your father after the whole business in Egypt. They think that your father is determined to break down the fabric of the Ministry with his "ludicrous" stories, or so they say.'

Albus' mouth was hanging open in angry disbelief, but Mars pre-empted him from voicing his anger by continuing.

'Naturally I told them precisely what I thought,' Mars said. 'They informed me that I was an ill-informed child and should not speak unless spoken to. They also informed me that I was no longer to be friends with you or to visit your house.'

Albus' heart sank again. That was devastating news. Mars must have sensed Albus' disappointment on his face, because he patted Albus on the shoulder.

'Never you mind; Albus Dumbledore,' Mars said. 'I intend on disobeying my parents as often as I am able. They will doubtless leave me to my own devices in the next holidays. The chances of me getting two consecutive holidays with my parents are remote. Most of the time; I think they forget that they even have a son. Whether it takes pretending to visit someone else and coming to your house instead, or some other scheme, I do not know. What I do know, my friend, is that we _will _be spending Christmas together, you and I.'

'You are a cunning and deceitful rat,' Albus said, emulating his father by pretending to look cross but knowing that his eyes were twinkling. 'You ought to be locked in Azkaban.'

'Ha!' Mars cried. 'Says you: who cannot even execute a body bind.'

Albus went the old fashioned route and tackled Mars' wand out of his hand. This had the effect of inviting Alabastor, Edward and William into the fray. Soon the cabin resounded with cries of pain and whoops of laughter as the five boys reacquainted themselves in the only way boys know: play-fighting.

* * *

That evening the Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry put on a spectacular show to welcome back its pupils. The enchanted ceiling was a vortex of galaxies, stretching up into an infinite beyond where nobody could or would ever dream of going. Hundreds of illuminated candles hung in mid-air, and the walls were decorated with the four House banners. Gryffindor's golden lion reared up majestically against the crimson background of the banner. Under this magnificent spectacle the students of Hogwarts filed in and took their places. For once the Gryffindor third years were not seated together. For some reason the girls sat as far away from the boys as was possible. It escaped the boys' notice; however, as they were too busy getting reacquainted with other members of their house.

'I expect you to get that Snitch within five minutes every game,' Richard Malkin said to Albus on his way to his seat.

'And you had better keep the Bludgers well clear of my face,' Albus cried back at the burly fifth year Beater.

'Why ever would I want to do that?' Malkin called back. 'Your nose needs straightening.'

Albus was just about ready to cast a jinx at his soon-to-be Quidditch team-mate when a jolt of energy made him drop his wand on the floor. He picked it up in haste and cast his eyes back up to the staff table to catch a glimpse of who had cast a spell at him.

'I do not believe my eyes,' Albus said. Mars gave him a quizzical look but Albus kept on staring directly at the front of the Great Hall. He thought his eyes might be fooling him, but his half-moon glasses worked particularly well and there was no doubting whom it was he was seeing.

Sitting between Professor Rolleston and Professor Sinistra was none other than Albus' tall, white-haired mother, Lubo Dumbledore.

'What is Dumbledore staring at like a half-wit?' Alabastor asked.

'My mother is sitting at the staff table,' Albus said slowly. It was as though time was slurred. Albus thought he was in a bad dream. No thirteen year old boy could bear the thought of his mother teaching at his school. For the matter, neither could a fifteen year old.

'Has the old bat lost her bananas?' Aberforth appeared at Albus' side, shaking him by the shoulders. 'What in the name of Peeves is she doing here?'

'I am not an old bat, Aberforth Dumbledore,' sounded the magnified voice of their mother from the head table. 'Ten points from Gryffindor for using disdainful language to refer to your mother.'

The entire school rumbled with laughter. Chastened; and glowing a shade of beetroot, Aberforth stalked back to his seat. Albus simply stared at his mother, gob smacked that she had kept this secret from him all summer and that she was actually going to be teaching at Hogwarts.

'So that is why your mother told me to change my attitude towards the Defense against the Dark Arts text,' William said. 'She must be the new Defense teacher.'

'Whatever happened to Professor Solstice?' Alabastor wondered.

'It must have been the controversy over his involvement with Imhotep,' Mars suggested. 'Even though Albus' father used Veritaserum to prove that he had been controlled by the Dark Wizard, the Board must have decided that he was unfit to teach.'

Albus was listening half-heartedly to the conversation going on around him. His head swam with the buzzing of bees. He could feel his cheeks burning and he did not know why. Whatever would people say now that Albus' mother was a teacher at Hogwarts? What if she started taking points off everyone? Would people start jinxing him to get back at his mother? These and other worried thoughts pounded the inside of Albus' head.

Albus was so overwhelmed by these paranoid ideations that he did not even notice Professor Bones leading the new first years into the Hall and placing the Sorting Hat on the seat in the front of the school. Albus even missed the first half of the Sorting Hat's annual song, and only started digesting what the hat was singing with a few verses remaining.

'… to Ravenclaw's good house,

The one for those with brains and nous;

And finally the fourth and last of these,

Where students strive ever to please,

The house of Godric true and brave,

The meek to help, the harried to save;

So there it is, my annual ditty is at an end,

Complain you not, for errors I'll not mend,

The song is sung and Time will not be turned,

Unless by those who wish sorely to be burned;

Hogwarts your year is now to commence,

And I soon from here will be ushered hence,

Farewell, my children, and do not have fear,

For I shall see you again in another year.

The school erupted into a din of applause for the cantankerous old hat and Professor Bones wasted no time in pushing the first newcomer forward to be sorted. The quivering girl found herself in Hufflepuff, and soon the Hall was filled with the cheers of Houses welcoming new students into their fold. Albus paid little further attention except for one name that caught his ear.

'Potter, Jeremiah James,' Professor Bones read out. A skinny little boy with messy black hair stumbled nervously towards the chair. The third years turned on William.

'You did not inform us that you had a brother coming to Hogwarts,' Alabastor said.

'It is not my brother,' William said. 'That is my cousin, son of my father's brother.'

'He looks as much a muggle as his cousin,' Alabastor said, grinning sideways at William.

'Would not want him in Gryffindor,' Albus added, enjoying the outraged look on William's face.

'I shall jinx you all,' William threatened, but then they were interrupted by the cry of the Sorting Hat.

'Gryffindor!'

The Gryffindors stood as one, as they always did to welcome a new member, and a scarlet faced Jeremiah Potter took a seat beside the six others who had already been named into the great house.

Eventually the Sorting was complete and Professor Bones could clear the stage for Professor Prewett to make her inaugural address for the new year. Albus was particularly attentive. He wanted to know precisely why his mother was sitting amidst the other staff.

'Good evening students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,' said the elderly witch with the grey hair and forbidding monocle. 'Welcome to another year of the finest education in the world of magic. As it is my second year as Headmistress, I have settled into the role and am ready to begin refining aspects of the school which require attention. It is my goal that Hogwarts builds on its reputation and remains ahead of the pack when it comes to quality of education. For this reason, there have been one or two slight changes to the status quo at this school.'

The school collectively held its breath. Nobody knew quite what Professor Prewett meant by all this, and all hoped that it didn't mean something dreadful like the banning of Quidditch or something of that nature. Professor Prewett continued unabated.

'We have one alteration to the staff as it stood at the end of last year. Professor Januar Solstice asked me if he could take a leave of absence for one year to restore confidence in his capacity to teach here. Most of you are probably unaware of the details and I do not wish to share them with you. I assure you that I still hold Professor Solstice in high esteem and hope to see him back at Hogwarts in a year's time. In the meantime, I needed a substitute to fulfill the post of Defense against the Dark Arts. This year we are extremely fortunate to have at our school a witch who, quite possibly, is the most capable in all of the land. Please welcome Professor Lubo Dumbledore.'

A polite round of applause followed, as nobody had quite formulated an opinion of this new teacher. The newly titled 'Professor Dumbledore', stood up and bowed. Albus noticed some of the girls pointing and marveling out loud at her perfectly straight, white hair; and the aura that seemed to surround her. He sighed inwardly. This could be a long and painful year, he thought with an irrational spoonful of self-pity.

'I have a few other announcements to make,' Professor Prewett continued. 'All students sitting for their OWLS or NEWTS are to remain behind after the Sorting Feast as I have some exam-specific announcements to make. You will all be worked very hard this year by your teachers.'

Albus saw Aberforth groan into his hands.

'As for the rest of you, do not expect that your teachers will be lenient. I want Hogwarts to strive for the highest standards in magical education this year. On a lighter note, all House Quidditch trials will be held this weekend. Gryffindor have use of the pitch on Saturday morning, Slytherin Saturday afternoon, Hufflepuff Sunday morning and Ravenclaw on Sunday afternoon. All other clubs are to hold their first meetings within the next few weeks. Anyone wishing to form a club of their own must report to my office before the end of the second week to collect an application form. That will be all. Have a year of fulfilled promise, wonderful experiences and plenty of learning. Enjoy the feast!'

The tables were instantly filled with all manner of culinary delights, prepared lovingly by the unseen house elves in the dungeon below. The students tucked in and a merry chatter arose about the upcoming Quidditch trials, club applications and the new regime of even harder work than before. Albus quietly contemplated Professor Prewett's words. He had seriously considered creating a new organization now that Victoria was dead, and 'retiring' the Pirates. Perhaps he should do it formally, with Professor Prewett's approval? That way he might reduce the risk of always losing points for Gryffindor with his pranks. He expected that several nights of tossing and turning in his bed would follow as he debated the idea in his head.

With a full stomach and a head that was already full from a day of sharing holiday stories with everyone he'd spoken to, Albus did no such thing. As soon as he arrived in the boys' dormitory, his head hit the pillow and he fell fast asleep. Albus was back at his favourite place in the world.


	4. Lubo's Lesson

Albus Dumbledore and the Wizard's Ruse

Book Three of the _Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts _Series

Disclaimer: this is a work of fan fiction based on the worlds created by JK Rowling. The story is written for entertainment and not for profit.

Author's Note: Thank you to those who have reviewed. I enjoy hearing your constructive criticism as it helps me to be a better writer.

* * *

"Humility is something that must be taught."

Chapter 4 – Lubo's Lesson

At the first breakfast after the students had returned to Hogwarts, the four Housemasters and Housemistresses strolled up and down the great House tables handing out timetable scrolls. Albus grinned up at his hero, Professor Ryan Rolleston, awe radiating from the boy toward the bearded man with pointed, tufted eyebrows. Professor Rolleston had saved Archaeon's life in Egypt last year, so Albus thought the world of him.

'How was your summer holiday, Professor?' Albus said breathlessly, eager as he was to make a good impression first up.

'It was delightful, thank you Albus,' Professor Rolleston said, handing the third year boys their timetables. 'I hear from your mother that you've been working on some very difficult magic.'

Albus ignored this mention of his mother. He was still embarrassed by the fact that she was teaching at Hogwarts. He chose another tack, hoping to impress Professor Rolleston even further.

'Sir, we are going to win the House Quidditch Cup this year, I am almost certain of it.'

'I do hope so, Albus,' Professor Rolleston said. He gave him an enigmatic smile before moving on to another group of Gryffindors. Albus looked down at the scroll in his hand and was about to open it when he noticed that all four of his friends were staring at him with incredulous faces.

'Who has become Professor Rolleston's incy-wincy little pet then?' William teased.

'Oh, beloved Professor Rolleston,' Alabastor said with an exaggerated poncy accent, waving his hands and rolling his eyes theatrically, 'do tell me graciously how delightful your summer holidays were.'

'Oh, Professor Rolleston,' Mars added, pretending to swoon and deliberately falling off the bench, his legs and arms flailing all over the place. This prompted a number of people nearby to laugh and Mars' face to go red, but it was Albus that was the most embarrassed. He told the others where to shove it and buried his crooked nose in his porridge, trying to cool the redness in his cheeks and avoid the gaze of his grinning friends. He did not know why he had appeared so obvious in his adoration of Professor Rolleston and was affronted by the fact that his friends had noticed. What with his mother teaching at school this year and now this, Albus thought it was a dreadful start to the year.

'Oh my, Albus,' William said, reading from his timetable, 'we have your mother for double Defense this morning.'

Albus sighed inwardly. This was definitely a rotten start.

'And it is with the Slytherins,' Alabastor added ruefully.

That was the straw that broke Albus' back. He dropped his spoon in his porridge, grabbed his timetable and scrambled for the exit of the Great Hall. He knew his friends' eyes were following him as he left, but he cared little. At that moment he needed a dose of fresh air. Albus passed through the massive entrance doors of Hogwarts and walked swiftly out onto the green grass that ran smoothly down towards the lake. A light breeze whipped his hair out of his eyes. He found a seat by the seamless silver water and let his brain contemplate what had just transpired.

His behaviour was so irrational, he realized. There had been no reason to schmooze Professor Rolleston, nor had there been any reason to storm out of the Great Hall. He felt like a right idiot, yet he could not explain this sudden loss of reason and logic within himself. It was as though his brain had taken a walk and been replaced by the intellect of a Fizzing Whizzbee. Albus furrowed his brow and strained to understand why he was like this, but he could never have guessed that it was the hormones pumping through his blood that was clouding his mind, not to mention the lingering bitterness over Victoria's death. Albus' emotions were in turmoil and he had no command over their whims.

Albus eventually calmed down and opened up his timetable scroll. Sure enough, he would have to endure his mother and the Slytherins for the first two lessons of the school year, but there was light at the end of this bleak tunnel yet. On Friday afternoon he had double Magical Creatures with the mysterious Horse Man, Professor Equus. Albus' chest felt a little lighter at the knowledge of this promising end to the week. He reluctantly got to his feet and returned to the castle, knowing that his immediate priority was to negotiate this first lesson taught by his mother.

The Slytherins did not disappoint when Albus arrived outside the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom. They immediately started throwing jibes at him.

'Dumbledore's going to be a right teacher's darling, is he not?' Isabella Malfoy whined.

'Expect she shall be awarding her son hundreds of points and taking plenty from us,' Mary Pilkington added.

'If that happens,' Frederick Bode said, casting a dark glance at Albus, 'her son will not want to walk the corridors of Hogwarts alone.'

'Close your mouth, you brute;' Emily Marchbanks said haughtily, 'Dumbledore could beat the lot of you blindfolded, without his wand.'

This caused the Slytherins to break out into a chant of "Emily and Albus, sitting in a tree", which made Marchbanks all the more irate because she'd had a long running banter going with Alabastor Meadowes and had never once considered taking an interest in Albus. Meanwhile Albus was getting poked in the ribs by William and Mars and he felt just about ready to curse the lot of them, when Lubo arrived to put an end to the noisy barracking.

'That is quite enough,' Lubo said. 'Please enter the room and take your seats in a mature fashion, if you will.'

Swarbrick Prince ran his shoulder into Albus in order to get into the classroom ahead of him, which left Albus wondering whether the entire world had gone off their collective nut today. He found a seat at the very back of the class next to Mars. Lubo took her place at the front of the class, her aura very much in evidence as she gazed serenely down at her new charges.

'Please bring out your texts, _Self Defense for Young Witches and Wizards,_' Lubo said. 'Now, William Potter, would you say this is a boring work?'

William's face went bright red immediately, and his response was stuttering in nature.

'Er, no, well, not particularly boring, er um, yes, yes it was quite a satisfying read.'

'Was it?' Lubo said. 'Then enlighten the class with an explanation of the basic principle elicited on the very first page of this book.'

She got a blank stare in return from William. The Slytherins sniggered under their breaths.

'If it amuses you that Potter has not so much as opened this text,' Lubo said, 'then why don't you enlighten us, Miss Malfoy? No? Mister Bode? No? I think I shall take it as read that none of you have so much as bothered to open this book.'

Albus felt like raising his hand and disagreeing with her, because he had read the first four chapters already, but did not want to incur the derision of the class any more than he already had, so he kept his mouth shut and his hand clenched firmly on his thigh.

'I want you all to read the first page,' Lubo said, 'and then I will expect each and every one of you to come up to the front and demonstrate the principle.'

A sigh went up as eighteen books were opened and eyes began to caress the lines of text contained therein. Despite having read it once already, Albus decided it was best to read it again, just in case he'd missed something that might prove useful when it came to having to demonstrate the task in front of the class.

_The First Lesson in Self-Defense – Anticipating Your Enemy's Next Move_

_Every young witch or wizard's first mistake is reacting to their enemies, instead of pre-empting them. In the art of self defense, the aspiring wizard or witch must learn to observe the nature and movement of their opponent, in order that they might foresee the opponent's next move. The first lesson in Self-Defense, therefore, is anticipating your enemy's next move so that you can pre-emptively defend against it. Reactive defense is likely to lead to defeat and possibly even death. Pre-emptive defense is the best guarantee of victory._

_Let us consider, for example, a simple _Expelliarmus_ charm. When faced with this charm, many young wizards and witches are caught off guard and lose their wands. Even experienced wizards and witches can become victims of this simple charm by failing to appreciate their opponent's intentions. How can one defend against this? The answer is not by reacting to the spell, but by pre-empting it. Consider the wand movement required for an _Expelliarmus. _The opponent will be turning their wand hand outwards before conducting a slash-like movement as they utter the incantation. Observe their mouth moments before they speak. Their mouths will open revealing their teeth in order to make the "Ex" sound. These hints enable the pre-emptive wizard or witch to foresee the impending spell and to react pre-emptively. Now, in the knowledge that your opponent is about to attempt the _Expelliarmus_ charm, you can put up an effective block in time to avoid losing your wand. The extra second or two that this buys you could also provide you with time to launch your own counterattack before your opponent can react._

_This seemingly simple principle is the first lesson in Self-Defense, and a principle that will recur throughout this text. Never forget to watch your opponent for hints of their impending move. In time, this may save your life._

Albus nodded to himself, convinced that he was ready to demonstrate pre-emptive self-defense at the front of the class. He would just watch his mother's wand hand and put up a charm before she sent the spell at him.

'Have you all completed the reading?' Lubo asked. When everyone nodded in reply, she called on red-headed Maggie Weasley to be the first to demonstrate the principle. Maggie was made to stand at the front of the class with her wand out, ten feet away from Lubo. 'Now, Maggie, recall what you read in the text and endeavour to prevent me from disarming you. You need only use a simple deflecting spell, but remember that if you cast the spell too early or too late, you are likely to lose your wand.'

Maggie nodded, gripping her wand nervously and concentrating on Lubo's face and hand. Albus had to admire his mother's graceful handling of her wand. She gripped it lightly between her thumb and forefinger as though it were a feather.

'_Expelliarmus,' _incanted Lubo. Maggie successfully deflected the spell, causing a pile of books to tumble out of a shelf and land in a heap on the floor.

'Oh dear, I'm dreadfully sorry,' Maggie said.

'Never you mind,' Lubo said. 'That was very well done. I award you a score of ten out of ten for achieving the spell on your first attempt. You may add two points for Gryffindor House. Please note, everyone, I keep a record of your scores every lesson. The cumulative score will help determine your final grade. I do not rely entirely on examinations to assess your abilities.'

Albus found himself breathing harder than before. His head pounded with the added pressure. For two years he had been the premier student in his year, and was desperate to keep it that way. This new fangled method of ranking his performance every day scared him. What if he was not perfect every single lesson? The very real possibility of losing Defense against the Dark Arts to someone like Jenning Ranger crossed his mind.

Lubo went around the class getting students to demonstrate the art of pre-emptively defending themselves against her _Expelliarmus_ incantation. For every extra attempt it took to successfully deflect the spell, a student would lose one mark. Frederick Bode, for example, had eleven attempts and lost his wand every time. He was sent back to his desk with a score of zero out of ten and the homework assignment that he was to practice until he could successfully deflect a disarming charm or face detention. The Gryffindor girls did particularly well, earning six points for Gryffindor between them. Maggie and Emily both had full marks, while Elizabeth and Annabel, both muggles, achieved nine out of ten. The boys, on the other hand, took several attempts to succeed. Mars was pink in the face when he returned to the desk having taken eight attempts and scoring just three out of ten.

'Albus, you are the last,' Lubo said. 'Please come forth.'

Albus was not blind to the fact that the girls had outperformed the boys by some margin today, and was determined at the very least to match Maggie and Emily. He stood opposite his mother at the front of the class, wand clenched tightly in his right hand. He watched his mother's hand closely for that tell-tale outward turn.

It did not come.

'_Expelliarmus,'_ Lubo said. Albus felt his wand leave his hand and fly backward into the wall. He cursed inwardly and ran to fetch it. He faced his mother, a steely glint in his eye.

Again the wand movement did not come.

'_Expelliarmus,'_ Lubo said. Once again Albus' wand was dislodged from his hand before he'd had the chance to react. Now he was sweating heavily. He looked wildly around the classroom for his wand. After several frantic seconds he found it at Maggie's feet. She was wearing a smirk of victory and it displeased him greatly. He returned to his position, staring hard at his mother's hand. He was convinced that he must be missing the tell-tale movement. Yet for the third time Lubo's hand was motionless.

'_Expelliarmus,'_ Lubo said. Albus' wand shot out of his hand again and he gave a cry of dismay. A snigger erupted from the Slytherins, who seemed to be enjoying this immensely. By now Albus' head was pounding and he was breathing like someone who'd run a very long race.

'Albus, you are not watching my lips,' Lubo said. 'If you recall, the text said that one can see the mouth commence moving when the incantation is about to be spoken.'

Albus paid her scant attention. His head was buzzing with defeat and he was determined to reverse the trend. He stared so hard at Lubo's hand that he was genuinely surprised when his wand was disarmed a fourth time.

'That is not fair,' Albus protested, attracting another snigger from the avid audience. 'Your hand is not moving!'

Lubo looked mildly disapproving after Albus' outburst and said nothing further. She allowed Albus to storm after his wand and return to the front of the class. Seven further times she disarmed Albus with casual ease. By the end of it Albus was blood-red in the face, on the verge of tears, and laughter rang out from the Slytherins. Even the Gryffindors were grinning at the sight of Albus Dumbledore bettered by someone else. Only Mars retained a pained expression out of loyalty to his friend.

'Alas, you achieve a score of zero out of ten,' Lubo said. 'Like Bode, your assignment is to practice this spell until you are adept at it. If you cannot successfully evade the _Expelliarmus_ incantation in our next lesson, you will also be put on detention. That concludes our lesson for today. The homework for everyone is to read the remainder of the first chapter. I will be testing you on further principles from that chapter in our next lesson. Class dismissed.'

Albus snuck back to his desk and deposited his text in his bag. He received a consoling pat on the back from Mars, but it did little to alleviate his battered esteem. He was about to trudge out of the room after the others, when he heard a voice inside his head.

'Please remain behind, Albus,' the voice said.

Albus had to give his mother credit. She had used her considerable magic to inform him to stay behind without saying it out loud. This saved him further embarrassment, but it was little consolation for what he had just endured. His cheeks were burning and he could not look his mother in the eyes when he dragged his feet up to her desk.

'I would hope that that anger you demonstrated today was not directed at me,' Lubo said gently.

'No, mother,' Albus admitted. 'I was furious with myself for being so useless. First of all I cannot achieve a single improvement all summer with father, and now I am made to look hopeless in front of the class with you.'

'You might recall receiving a similar lesson in humility from Professor Rolleston last year,' Lubo said. 'I remember you complaining about him in a letter you wrote.'

'What is the matter with me?' Albus said. He was so encompassed by self-pity and anger that he failed to register the significance of the comparison his mother had just made.

'Albus,' Lubo said, with more than a dollop of patience, 'if you had bothered to notice, none of the boys in your class achieved more than four out of ten, while the girls achieved scores of between seven and ten.'

'Are you saying that girls are superior to boys?' Albus said petulantly, 'for I have never once been beaten in an examination by girls or by other boys for that matter. I have never received such a low score in any test, either. I think you are being deliberately harsh on me.'

'Oh, Albus, do grow up,' Lubo said. 'I said nothing of the sort, and did nothing of the sort. The art of self-defense involves a tremendous helping of subtlety and fine handling of one's wand. You have to have a delicate and refined touch when defending against an enemy. At your age, boys are cumbersome in their handling of wands and pay little attention to fine details, whereas girls have the dexterity and subtlety that is required. Had you noticed, I was using wandless magic to disarm you, and you ought to have observed my mouth pre-emptively rather than my hand as you did.'

'That is unfair,' Albus moaned, deliberately ignoring everything his mother had said. 'You did not use wandless magic on any of the others.'

'Detention, Albus Dumbledore,' Lubo said, finally exasperated by Albus' teenage petulance. 'You shall return here after school to practice the art of holding your wand between your thumb and forefinger, and controlling it in a delicate fashion. Perhaps if you learned also to control your temper, we might make progress this year. You are dismissed.'

Albus stomped out of the classroom, reeling with the unfairness of it all. He spent the remainder of the day in a foul mood, barely speaking to his friends and uttering monosyllabic responses in his other classes. In fact, by the time he trudged back to the Defense against the Dark Arts class for his detention, it was the first time in his entire school career that Albus had failed to win any points for Gryffindor in a day of lessons.

To Albus' not-so-great surprise, he discovered that his brother Aberforth was also the recipient of a detention from their mother. He was sitting in the front row looking daggers at Lubo, who told Albus to sit down and then berated them both together.

'I am terribly disappointed in you both,' Lubo said. 'I expected that my own sons would be the most respectful and well behaved students in my classes, but it would seem that I was mistaken. I have taken up this position as a favour to your father's friend Januar, and to Professor Prewett. You are both to get used to the concept of your mother as a Professor at this school and treat me with the respect I am due. Perhaps this detention will serve to remind you that I am your mother, not some house-elf that you can treat badly. Aberforth, you are to write a thousand lines "I will not make rude remarks about my mother in class", and Albus, you are to practice the fine handling of a wand as I told you earlier. I have business to attend to elsewhere, but I assure you I shall know if either of you two violates the conditions of your detention.'

Lubo Dumbledore made a swift exit, leaving the two boys in stunned silence at the front of the class. Eventually Aberforth picked up his quill and began writing out the lines on a scroll. Albus followed suit and picked up his wand between his thumb and his forefinger.

'How difficult can this be?' he wondered in his head. He tried to cast simple spells at a pile of books on the floor. To his surprise many of them did not work and he frequently dropped his wand. It was as if he had little control of his own fingers. They were clumsy, longer than he remembered them to be, and he longed to be able to hold his wand in the full grasp of his hand.

'Why has she got you holding your wand like a girl?' Aberforth enquired under his breath, as though he were scared Lubo was listening through the walls. It was not an impossibility given their knowledge of her vast magical abilities.

'This morning the girls outclassed us boys in a simple act of self-defense,' Albus muttered. 'She told me that I lack the subtlety and fine handling of girls.'

Aberforth snorted.

'What about you?' Albus asked.

'Alas, I kept muttering under my breath the entire lesson,' Aberforth said. 'Little did I know that she heard it all, but said nothing until the end, by which time I had done myself in, so to speak.'

Albus suppressed a grin. He could just imagine Aberforth giving a stream of cheek during the lesson only to learn that their wily mother was quite aware of it the whole time.

'I suppose we ought to behave ourselves,' Albus said quietly. 'After all, she is terrifically good.'

'That she is, little brother,' Aberforth admitted.

'I just wish she had let us in on the plan to teach at Hogwarts,' Albus said. 'I must confess it came as something of a surprise.'

Aberforth and he were silent for several moments, each concentrating on their detention task.

'You know, Albus,' Aberforth said with a sideways glance, 'there is one positive to be gleaned from our mother's presence here.'

'And what is that?' Albus asked.

'The girls are mad about her,' Aberforth said. 'I heard them jabbering on at lunch about what a divinely good witch she is, and how they all ought to be just like her.'

Albus smiled at Aberforth's avid expression. He could just see Aberforth trying to inveigle himself with the girls, using his mother's status among them as a talking point. Albus knew that there was one Ravenclaw girl in particular that Aberforth wanted to 'befriend', being the same girl that he'd tried to kidnap the previous year.

The boys worked on in silence until Lubo came back to end their suffering. Aberforth had only managed three hundred lines, and Albus' fingertips were burning from the effort of trying to handle his wand with a delicate touch.

'You are free to go,' Lubo said. 'I expect a much improved attitude from the both of you. I confess I ought to have informed you of my intention to teach here, and I understand that both of you have reacted with surprise and even anger. But from hereon in, I expect you to be shining examples of Dumbledore discipline and excellence. Is that understood?'

'Yes, mother,' the boys said, before taking their leave. Neither spoke as they wandered downstairs for dinner in the Great Hall. They were like two puppy dogs with their tails between their legs, humbled after Lubo's lesson.

* * *

Author's Note – the attentive of you might have picked up that Swarbrick Snape from the first two books is now Swarbrick Prince. That is because I want him to be Severus' ancestor, and I wrote the first book before _Half-Blood Prince_ came out and identified Severus' ancestor as a Prince. I apologise for the inconsistency and ask for your understanding. Needless to say, the error is now corrected and Swarbrick will remain a Prince for the rest of the series. 


	5. A Very Magical Creature

Albus Dumbledore and the Wizard's Ruse

Book Three of the _Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts _Series

Disclaimer: this is a work of fan fiction based on the worlds created by JK Rowling. The story is written for entertainment and not for profit.

Author's Note: Nothing needs to be said, really. I must report that after someone commented on my confused use of semi-colons I decided to hit the books and re-learn my grammar, so to speak. Hopefully from now on my use of semi-colons and commas is correct.

* * *

"In the darkness you only need to know how to put on the light."

Chapter 5 – A Very Magical Creature

The first week at Hogwarts flew by, a whirlwind of new concepts, long homework assignments, and barely a space in between to catch one's breath. Albus managed to redeem himself in Defense against the Dark Arts by reading Lubo's lips and deflecting her spell on the second attempt. In his other subjects he was quickly back to his points-winning ways for Gryffindor House. Nowhere was this more evident than in Charms and Transfiguration, where Professors Rolleston and Bones were left reaching for their OWL textbooks to find work challenging enough for him. Potions, History of Magic and Herbology were as tedious as ever; and Albus quickly added the subject of Divination to the category of 'Pointless Lessons Taught by Pointless Teachers'.

The one lesson he had been looking forward to all week was double-Care of Magical Creatures with Hogwarts' mysterious and famed Horse Man on Friday afternoon. At lunch in the Great Hall on Friday, Albus was brimming with excitement.

'I cannot wait to see Professor Equus again,' Albus said to those who were taking Care of Magical Creatures: Annabel, Maggie, William, Edward and Mars. Emily, Alabastor and Elizabeth were taking Ancient Runes instead.

'What is Professor Equus like?' Maggie asked. 'I have heard that he is awfully old and peculiar.'

'That he is not,' Albus said, banging his fork on the table. Maggie gave him a wide stare, and Albus wondered where his head had gotten to again. He softened his tone and said 'He is an old man, yes, but he can turn into the most beautiful of horses. I, myself, saw him transform into his horse form last year.'

'Oh, but I have heard he does not transform for students,' Annabel said.

'It would seem everyone makes exceptions for Albus here,' Mars said, nudging Albus in the ribs. Albus blew a raspberry at him and concentrated his energies on the apple pie on the plate in front of him.

He had the first fork-full halfway between the plate and his mouth when he was interrupted by a heavy tap on his shoulder. It was Thomas Jones, the Head Prefect.

'Dumbledore,' Thomas said, in a fashion that was formal by comparison to the way he normally addressed Albus, 'I hope you recall that the Gryffindor Quidditch trials are on tomorrow morning. I expect all contenders to be there at eight sharp.'

'I will be there, most definitely,' Albus said.

'May we come?' Alabastor asked, giving Thomas a belligerent look. 'Albus is not the only one hoping to trial for the Quidditch team.'

'Absolutely you may,' Thomas said, smiling back at the tetchy third year. 'All comers are welcome, for this is the year that Gryffindor will be successfully defending the House Quidditch Cup won two years ago, and I hope to select the strongest team possible.'

'I shall be there,' Alabastor said firmly.

'And I,' William added.

'And I, too,' Mars said, grinning as he mimicked William's tone of voice.

'That marks an excellent turnout from the third years,' Thomas said, beaming. 'If I could only find the same level of commitment from my sixth and seventh years, but everyone seems to be murmuring about NEWTS and it is only September! Alas, such is the life of a Quidditch Captain. It is an insufferable task garnering little gratitude for a reward that seems so remote at this stage in the year.'

The third years exchanged looks between them when they realized that Thomas was actually speaking aloud to himself. They carried on eating until Thomas finally drifted away.

'He has gone mental,' Alabastor declared.

'No he has not,' Albus said, digging irritably into his pie. It seemed to be a recurring theme lately for Albus. He kept finding himself defending the character of people he admired or cared about when others took exception to them. What was he: a Defender of Commoners, of Teachers and Pupils? He was beginning to wonder.

Albus had his third forkful halfway between his plate and his mouth when he was rapped on the shoulder a second time. He nearly dropped his fork when he turned to see that it was Professor Prewett standing behind him. The Headmistress was peering down at him through her monocle and, as ever, looked forbidding.

'The Pirates have not done anything,' Albus said, managing to look guilty even though he was brazenly innocent.

'Not yet that haven't,' Professor Prewett said, pursing her lips. 'That is why I have come to see you. You may recall that I am expecting all clubs and organizations to formally lodge an application with me by the end of next week. If you wish the Pirates to exist this year, you must register. Come by my office before the end of lunch to collect an application form. That will be all.'

Professor Prewett marched off, her head held primly atop her long neck. Albus caught himself reflecting on how approachable she had seemed in first year when she was only his Housemistress and Charms teacher. Now that she was Headmistress she seemed thrice as formidable.

'Well,' William said impatiently. 'Are you going to register the Pirates with Professor Prewett or what?'

Albus realized that all eight the other third years were looking at him expectantly.

'Er… actually I was planning on registering another club,' Albus said, shifting his weight on his seat uncomfortably. 'What I mean to say is, the Pirates can never be the same now that … now that Victoria is… you know, not here anymore. Besides, we were the Pirates of Points Undeserved and now that Gryffindor is two-time House Champion, we do not really have a cause to pirate any other House's points, do we?'

'Oh, so that is your intention,' Alabastor said, a black look on his face. 'The great Albus Dumbledore was going to form a new club without even asking the opinion of us lesser scribes. Come, William, we have no need to sit with such greatness.'

Alabastor and William were gone before Albus could even raise a hand in protest. Emily followed without giving reason, while it was fairly obvious that Annabel's reason for departing was her friendship with William. Albus was left staring at his apple pie, wondering what on Earth he had done to deserve the dramas of this first week back at Hogwarts.

'Don't you mind them, Albus,' Maggie said, patting him on the arm. 'I understand why the Pirates cannot be any longer. Without Victoria … well, it just would not be right. Ignore William and Alabastor. They are just being … _boys._'

'What of Annabel and Emily?' Albus said, picking at the pie with his fork.

'Annabel does whatever William does,' Maggie said. 'As for Emily: she has been behaving oddly of late as well. I think I know the reason why, but it is not a subject for the lunch table.'

'Whatever you decide to call this new club,' Mars said, 'I promise to be the first member to sign my name under yours.'

'You can rely on me, too,' Edward said. 'I do not think William or Alabastor could come up with half the club that you are capable of.'

'And I, too,' Maggie said, mimicking Mars' earlier statement. Elizabeth added a nod and a smile to suggest that she was also game for it. Albus felt much better knowing that he had at least four Gryffindor third years willing to partake in his new organization. He held the quiet hope that they would keep their word in spite of the fact that he secretly intended to invite members from other Houses and other years.

Albus had finally returned to his apple pie when he was interrupted for the third time by a tap on the shoulder.

'What is it now?' Albus cried, swiveling around and coming face-to-face with his mother.

'Five points from Gryffindor for that little outburst,' Lubo said sharply. 'I do not expect to get my head bitten off every time I come to speak to my son. I came to inform you that your first tutorial in Occlumency and Legilimency with me will be tomorrow afternoon, at the completion of your Quidditch trials.'

'Yes, mother,' Albus said.

'I think "Professor Dumbledore" is the appropriate reference you ought to use,' Lubo said.

'Yes, Professor Dumbledore,' he mumbled.

Lubo walked off, leaving Albus to finally finish off his apple pie. It had been a turbulent meal to say the least. He had Quidditch Trials and Occlumency lessons tomorrow to panic about, his plans for a new club had split the third year Gryffindors down the middle, and he only had five minutes to collect an application form from Professor Prewett's office before Care of Magical Creatures. Albus shot out the door of the Great Hall as fast as his long, skinny legs would carry him. Sometimes, he wished that disapparation was permitted within the school grounds.

Albus discovered that Professor Prewett had left a pile of application scrolls at the foot of the revolving staircase underneath her office. Albus grabbed one, shoved it into the pocket of his robe, and was about to dart off when he noticed a familiar figure loitering in the corridor just yards away. It was a tall man in handsome silk robes, with white teeth, ruddy cheeks, and smoothly lacquered hair: it was Lionel Wilberforce, the Minister for Magic.

'Ahoy there, boy,' the Minister said when he spotted Albus staring at him. 'You are the son of Archaeon, are you not?'

The Minister was looking at Albus as though he only vaguely recognized him. Albus stared stupidly back at the man, wondering if the Minister had also lost his marbles. Last year Minister Wilberforce had had plenty to do with Albus. On more than one occasion Albus had reported the actions of the Germans to the Minister, and on each occasion he had been labeled an attention-seeking liar. There was no doubt that Minister Wilberforce knew exactly who he was. Albus realized that he was late for Care of Magical Creatures and snapped out of his daze.

'Yes, sir,' Albus said, 'but I am late for my next lesson. Good day, sir.'

Albus had no time to contemplate the behaviour of the Minister for Magic and why he had been wandering around the corridor beneath the Headmistress' office for no obvious reason. He hastened out the main entrance and bolted across Hogwarts' grassy green fields in the direction of the Forbidden Forest and the Care of Magical Creatures paddock. When he arrived, panting, he was relieved to note that Professor Equus had not yet arrived.

'There you are,' Mars said. 'You look like you have run to Wales and back.'

'It feels that way,' Albus said, grasping at his sides, which burned with the exertion of having sprinted down several flights of stairs and across Hogwarts' grounds. When he had recomposed himself he saw that Annabel and William were standing with the five Hufflepuffs, trying not to look in his direction. Davey Jones gave Albus a grin and a wave. He waved back, before noticing that an old man in a brown cloak had appeared in a gap between the trees.

'Come closer,' the man croaked. 'I am too aged to raise my voice.'

The eleven students cautiously approached the old man. Albus also felt apprehensive despite having met the Horse Man before. He noticed that the man looked even older than he had a year ago. His wrinkled skin hung in droopy sacks from his face, he had a toothless mouth, only a few wisps of hair covered his freckled scalp, and he was stooped over a knobbled walking stick.

'I am Professor Equus,' the old man said. He spoke with barely more than a rasp. 'Likely some of you have never even heard of me. Others among you have probably heard naught but rumours and speculative drivel. One of your numbers has seen more of me than any at this school ever have.'

Several heads turned automatically to Albus, who pretended not to notice. He kept his gaze fixed on the implacable face of Professor Equus.

'This lesson is not a forum for correcting the misconceptions about me,' Professor Equus continued. 'Here we undertake the study of magical creatures. I am one of the oldest and most magical of creatures, but my time as an animagus is soon at an end. I fear this may be my final year among humankind, for the infirmities of age are almost more than I can handle. Within a year I expect that I will be transformed permanently into my horse form, never again to walk the Earth on two legs.'

The class was listening to Professor Equus in awed silence. Albus had told tales of his encounter with the Horse Man last year, so most of them knew at least something of his history. Professor Equus had claimed to have been around since before the time of kings and empires. He said he had ridden as Bucephalus, the mount of a famed muggle conqueror called Alexander the Great. While nobody could substantiate these claims, Albus and most of his classmates were quite entranced by the aura that the Horse Man exuded. They all felt the hairs of their skin tingling and standing on end in his presence.

'Albus Dumbledore,' Professor Equus said, 'the subject of this first lesson is in your possession. Would you be so kind as to summon my old friend?'

Albus felt his cheeks burning when he realized that everyone was looking at him for a second time that lesson. He was surprised that Professor Equus wanted to use Fawkes for the first lesson. After two years of owning a phoenix, Albus had begun to take the almighty creature for granted. He had to remind himself that Fawkes was actually a magical creature.

'Fawkes,' Albus said. With a flash of orange flame, the phoenix appeared on Albus' outstretched arm. The entire class crowded around, eager for a closer look. Even the other Gryffindor third years had never had the opportunity to observe Fawkes this closely. When it was not with Albus, the phoenix kept to its self. Albus was the only one who knew about the Everliving Oak in the Forbidden Forest where it kept a second home.

Twelve pairs of eyes, including those of Professor Equus and Albus, gazed at the spectacular bird. Golden claws grasped Albus' forearm. Burnished copper legs rose up into a soft crimson down. Fawkes' plumage was a mix of gold, crimson and scarlet feathers. If one looked closely enough you could see feathers with such diverse colours as green, purple and orange. Fawkes had a prominent golden beak underneath deep, intelligent eyes. These eyes were currently locked with the eyes of the Horse Man.

'Albus,' Professor Equus said at last, 'why don't you enlighten us all with some of Fawkes' capabilities?'

Albus felt embarrassed again, but his nerves faded when he realized that everyone had trained their undivided attention on him. Even William and Annabel seemed to have forgotten their earlier temper with him. He cleared his throat and spoke confidently, like a schoolteacher might when addressing their class.

'Fawkes is a phoenix,' Albus said, 'which means he is one of kind. There is only one known phoenix alive in the world at any one time. He is born in the Temple of Ra, in the City of the Sun, Heliopolis, in Egypt. He goes there to die also, and it is from the pile of ashes that he is reborn. I suppose that is where the saying "to rise from the ashes" comes from. In other words, Fawkes is an immortal creature. I have seen him take a killing curse for me and survive. As you saw, phoenixes can also apparate and disapparate at will. Sometimes he arrives in a burst of flame; sometimes he arrives without sight or sound. I can disapparate with him by taking hold of his tail feathers. He sings a song that warms the soul. His tear drops can cure wounds or sickness. He can communicate with me through his eyes. And… well, that is about all, I think.'

'Very well told, Albus,' Professor Equus said. 'It would seem that you have explored nearly all of the phoenix's remarkable powers.'

'Excuse me sir,' said Keiron Bletchley-Adams, one of the Hufflepuff third years, 'but it seems a tad far-fetched, if you were to ask me.'

'Have your eyes perused the chapter on Phoenixes in your text, _Magykel Beastes?'_ Professor Equus asked. Keiron shook his head. Professor Equus continued, 'that, by the way, happens to be your homework task for this week. I do not require essays from you. My only requirement is that you read about each magical creature we study. Your examination result at year's end will reflect the depth of your readings. Now, Keiron, what Albus said may seem far-fetched at this point in time, but we are going to spend the remainder of the lesson observing Fawkes' abilities. Albus, if you would care to demonstrate for the class.'

Albus was surprised to find that he had lost any feeling of self-consciousness. He stepped out into the middle of the paddock and the other ten third years formed a semi-circle in front of him. Professor Equus watched from his position between the trees, leaning hard upon his walking stick.

'Fawkes, take Keiron to the other side of the lake and bring him back,' Albus said. Fawkes flew up and dangled his tail in front of Keiron's face. The boy looked less than convinced as he grabbed on to the phoenix's tail feathers. A few seconds later he had disappeared and reappeared with a pop, and his facial expression had changed dramatically. He was grinning and emphatically singing the praises of the phoenix.

'That is remarkable,' Keiron said. 'Oh please, Albus. Do let me try it again.'

But Albus had nine other people clamouring to have a turn. He got Fawkes to disapparate people from one side of the lake and back, to appear and disappear in a flash of flame and then again without making a visual entrance, to communicate with everyone through their eyes, and to sing a song that warmed them all up like a hot drink of chocolate. Albus even cut himself with a grazing spell and got Fawkes to drip tears on to the oozing wound. When it disappeared completely the rest of the class was left in no doubt as to Fawkes' extraordinary ability.

'What about the killing curse?' Keiron asked, his exuberance going one step too far. 'Can we see the phoenix survive one?'

'No,' Albus said, grabbing his wand in a defensive instinct. 'I will not allow anyone to use a killing curse on my phoenix.'

'I apologize,' Keiron said, holding up the palms of his hands. 'I was merely hoping to see it. There is no need to hex me.'

'Calm down, boys,' Professor Equus said lightly. 'Besides the fact that killing curses are prohibited, I think we have asked enough of this noble creature for one day. Fawkes, do let the students bid you farewell before you depart.'

Fawkes obediently rested on Albus' forearm while the other kids took turns stroking its magnificent plumage. Fawkes gave one, last, quick song before evaporating in another golden flash of flame.

'Thank you for that, Albus,' Professor Equus said. 'I am certain all of you learned a considerable amount in this lesson. Please read the appropriate chapter in _Magykel Beastes_. I look forward to our next encounter on Friday next. Until then, fare you well.'

Professor Equus vanished back into the forest as swiftly as he had come. The class drifted back to the castle, chattering animatedly about the powers of the phoenix. Albus would have heard at least five people commenting on how fortunate he was to own one, had he not been staring at the forest in the direction Professor Equus had departed. He desperately wanted to catch another glimpse of the Horse Man's transformation, but he could see nothing in the darkness. He had to convince himself that a spark of sunlight that caught the corner of his eye had been the Horse Man transforming into the Horse, somewhere in the distance.

And so Albus' first week of lessons at Hogwarts came to a close, but the week was far from over. He would spend a nervous evening in the Gryffindor Common Room, agonizing over the two events that awaited him Saturday: Occlumency with Lubo in the afternoon, after Quidditch Trials for the Gryffindor House team in the morning. Albus could not recall being as nervous as he was that night, tossing and turning in his bed as he tried to get some sleep before the biggest day of his year so far.


	6. Quidditch Trials and Occlumency

Albus Dumbledore and the Wizard's Ruse

Book Three of the _Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts _Series

Disclaimer: this is a work of fan fiction based on the worlds created by JK Rowling. The story is written for entertainment and not for profit.

Author's Note: Thanks for the continued reviews. Keep them coming so I can make this story have more reviews than the last two put together!

* * *

"Competition is a young man's best friend."

Chapter 6 – Quidditch Trials and Occlumency

A large audience turned out to see the trials for the Gryffindor House Quidditch team on Saturday morning. Many of them were from the other three Houses, and were keen to see whether Gryffindor looked strong enough to defend their title or not. Albus had to endure plenty of unwarranted jibes as he made his way out on to the pitch for the start of the trial. No doubt it was Frederick Bode, Isabella Malfoy and some of the other Slytherins, he thought.

'Ignore the idiots from the other Houses,' Thomas Jones told the forty or so Gryffindors that had assembled in front of him. 'Today is your opportunity to win a place in the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and you ought not to let a few nasty words put you off your stride. We have four players here who were in the champion team from two years ago, plus one who filled in for a match: Malkin, Beater; Eades, Chaser; Pettigrew, Beater; me, Chaser; and Dumbledore, Seeker. That means we are, at the very least, looking for a new Chaser and a new Keeper now that Ipswich and Glastonbury have left us. I might add that the five names I have mentioned are not guaranteed to be selected, either. Every one of the seven positions is available, if you can demonstrate sufficient ability today.'

The revelation that any post in the team was available had the Gryffindors murmuring with excitement. Albus could feel his heart pounding in his throat. He had only ever played one game for Gryffindor. It had been a match-winning effort against Slytherin, but that was two years ago. Would that be enough to win him the post of Seeker permanently?

'I am going to divide you into groups of seven,' Thomas continued. 'I will pit teams of seven against one another, and observe your performances. Those of you that stand out will be selected in the two best teams to play later in the morning, from which I will select the final team. Good luck to one and all.'

Albus was picked in the third team of seven, so he had to wait for half an hour while the first two teams did battle overhead. He noticed that his best friend Mars did a solid job as a Chaser, scoring twice, but it was against a second year Keeper named Mathilda Malkin who did not look like she could see her own nose, let alone the Quaffle. The incumbent Beater, a burly fifth year named Walter Pettigrew, terrorized everyone on the opposition team and looked like the first sure-bet selection for the team. Walter had had both arms broken by the Slytherin Beaters in Albus' first year, in a match where Albus had only caught the Golden Snitch after half his team had been severely injured.

Eventually Albus' time came. He hopped on to his Cleansweep Two, which gleamed in the early morning sunlight. He had spent nearly two hours polishing it last night. He hoped his performance would be as sparkling.

It was not, but it was also not as bad as he had imagined in his dreams last night. He was up against a fourth year girl playing Seeker for the other team, and she did not seem to have much of an eye for the Golden Snitch. This should have made Albus' job easy but he was playing against the incumbent Beater, Richard Malkin, who was doing his best to impress Thomas Jones by slamming Bludgers repeatedly at Albus. Albus spent fifteen dizzying minutes spiraling out of harm's way. He twice received a graze when one of the Bludgers deflected off his legs.

'Why are you going at me like that?' Albus cried when Malkin flew by to retrieve the tenth Bludger he'd aimed at Albus' head.

'Captain's orders, Dumbledore,' Malkin replied, grinning. 'He said I ought to test your ability to dodge, duck and dive. You do remember the match against Slytherin?'

Albus could not forget. He had nearly died from the assault the Slytherins had launched against him once they had disposed of most of the rest of his team. He ducked another Malkin Bludger and shot off in another direction, eyes searching desperately for the Golden Snitch so that he could get back on solid ground.

Once Albus caught a glimpse of the Snitch the end did not take very long to arrive. Albus shot into a headlong dive for it. The other Seeker responded slowly and Albus had a hundred foot lead on her before she even spotted the Snitch. Albus' outstretched right hand closed on the Snitch and the trial game was over.

'Well done chaps,' Thomas said to the fourteen players once they had assembled back on the ground. 'Dumbledore captured the Snitch in the nick of time to give his team a win by one hundred and eighty to one hundred and sixty. Excellent work there, Malkin. Eades, your chasing needs work but you still mounted one hundred and twenty points while Malkin was hounding Dumbledore. The rest of you were not as impressive as I'd hoped. Where is the new talent? Maybe the next two teams can give me something to smile about?'

Albus sat down beside Mars while the fifth and sixth trial teams dueled in the sky. They noticed that both William and Alabastor were doing particularly well. William was playing Keeper for his team and pulled off some spectacular saves. Alabastor, who had grown up over the summer and was the broadest shouldered of the third years, was doing an effective job sending Bludgers at opposition players. Albus and Mars found themselves getting into the game, cheering when their friends did well and hissing when the other players did well against them. Albus had forgiven the pair of them for storming off yesterday, but he was not sure if they had forgiven him for planning to disband the Pirates and start a new club.

Then, to Albus' complete dismay, he saw William's cousin Jeremiah Potter, a first year, descend into a dead straight dive and capture the Snitch just inches from the ground before pulling up. It was an outstanding move and Albus knew at once that his place in the team was under considerable threat.

Shortly before midday, when the sun was beating down quite mercilessly on the Gryffindors and the crowd had thinned out considerably out of sheer disinterest in the trial, Thomas called the contenders into a huddle on the pitch.

'I have seen enough to pick the best fourteen players to contest the final trial,' Thomas said. 'I will have Malkin, Meadowes, Eades, McMarsh, McGonagal, Adams and Dumbledore on one team. I want Pettigrew, Harrison, Sprew, Tomley, myself, Will Potter and his cousin Jeremiah Potter on the other team. Let me be clear: this is the final trial and I will be using it to make the ultimate decision on the make-up of the team. There will be no contest or dispute. Once again, good luck.'

The thirty or so unlucky people who had missed out either stayed on to watch or drifted back up to the castle in disappointment. Albus felt his hands shaking on his broom. He knew that he had to capture the Snitch quickly otherwise the upstart Potter might have the opportunity to show off his talents and steal his place in the team. Thomas blew on a whistle and the fourteen players lifted into the air on their brooms. Albus tried gulping but his throat was too dry. He shot off in search for the Snitch. No sooner had he done so than Jeremiah Potter was at his side. The scrawny first year had messy black hair like his cousin and dark eyes. He kept trying to nudge Albus aside, but Albus was big enough to send him spiraling away with a well-timed response. Yet Potter kept returning, like an incessant insect.

'Malkin!' cried Albus. 'Dispose of this firstie for me!'

To Albus' complete surprise, Jeremiah responded immediately.

'Pettigrew!' little Potter cried. 'Dispose of Dumbledore for me!'

This had the unfortunate effect of inviting the two Beaters to both send Bludgers in their direction. Albus and Potter dispersed as the heavy balls shot through the space where they had been moments before.

Albus spent ten minutes evading the direct attack of Walter Pettigrew, and could not even keep track of Jeremiah Potter, let alone look for the Snitch. He managed to learn from his team's Keeper, Eloise Adams, that Thomas was on a rampage with the Quaffle and that Albus' team was losing by 170-40. Albus knew that he had to find the Snitch in record time to avoid a defeat. He went into a wide circle over the top of the stadium, squinting through his half-moon glasses.

Then he saw it: one golden sparkle just inches from the ground near the far post. And Jeremiah Potter was already swooping towards it, at least fifty feet ahead of him.

Albus strained every muscle in his body to will his Cleansweep Two along. He felt like he was gaining on Potter ever so slightly, but it did not feel like it was going to be enough. Then, at the last possible instant, the Snitch squirted to the left, just out of Potter's reach. Albus was far enough away to adjust his line of flight and now had the advantage over Potter. Albus reached out with his left hand and grabbed the fluttery golden ball. He broke into an immediate grin and relief washed over his body like a cool bath. He strode to the center of the pitch, confident that his place in the Gryffindor team was sealed.

'Very well done, one and all,' Thomas Jones said, beaming at his protégés. 'When Dumbledore captured the Snitch, he tied the scores at one hundred and ninety apiece. Although I must say, it was a close call there. Jeremiah Potter did awfully well on a school broom and I would like to see him on a Cleansweep Two.'

Albus did a double take and his heart sank into the pitch. He immediately read this as a sign that Thomas viewed Potter as the superior Seeker. Did this mean that he was going to miss out to a first year? Albus could barely believe it, but it seemed a distinct possibility.

'I am going to have to take the afternoon to consider my verdict,' Thomas continued, oblivious to Albus' internal wrangling. 'I shall call a meeting in our common room after dinner tonight, where I will announce the team for this year.'

The Gryffindors dispersed towards the castle. Alabastor and William ignored Albus, and kept to themselves as they walked back. Albus and Mars trudged along in muted conversation.

'I do not think I played particularly well,' Mars said. 'William kept three of my shots at bay, and I only scored twice. We only scored forty points while the other team scored one hundred and ninety. If it weren't for you capturing the Snitch…'

'William did play well,' Albus remarked. 'Do not feel too upset by it. After all, Thomas Jones was playing at the other end and he is the best player in the school.'

'At least you shall be in the team,' Mars said.

'Of that I am not so sure,' Albus said, looking over at the shaggy haired first year. 'Thomas seems to think very highly of Jeremiah Potter, even though he is an ickle firstie.'

'It would be a bold move picking a first year,' Mars said.

'He picked me, do you not recall?'

'Ah,' Mars said. The pair were silent the rest of the way back to the castle, locked in their own private thoughts of despair and defeat.

After lunch, most of the Gryffindors went back to the Quidditch pitch to return the compliment to Slytherin, whose turn it was to practice. Albus, on the other hand, had to make for the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom for his tutorial with his mother. After a summer where he had gained little from lessons with Archaeon, and that awful lesson earlier in the week with Lubo, Albus held little hope of it being a productive afternoon.

'Good afternoon, my son,' Lubo said from her place behind the desk at the front of the classroom. The sunlight pouring in through the window lit up her hair so that she glowed like a Veela.

'Good afternoon, Professor Dumbledore,' Albus said, slipping into a seat in the back row.

'Oh do not be so ridiculous,' Lubo said. 'In private you can call me "mother", and you do not have to sit at an apparation's length from me. Come.'

Lubo got up and conjured two chintz arm chairs out of thin air at the front of the class. She sat down in one and bade Albus sit in the other, only nine feet away from her.

'Why do you look so frightened?' she asked.

'Because you are about to see my deepest feelings and memories,' Albus said. 'Much like father did during the summer.'

Lubo clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

'I told your father not to be so ruthless in his tuition,' she said. 'Sometimes he forgets the magnitude of his own power. If only I had taken your Legilimency and Occlumency from the beginning. Do not fear. I shall be gentle with you at first.'

Albus discovered that he was sweating profusely, despite Lubo's reassurance. She was looking at him quite intently, and he shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. After a while he became accustomed to it. He even took to staring back at her with a level, calm appreciation of her blue eyes and beautiful face.

'That is very pleasing,' Lubo said after a long while. Albus figured they must have stared at one another for twenty minutes or more. 'You did not back down from my visual challenge. The first key to the arts of both Legilimency and Occlumency is to stand your ground. The wizard who flees is the one whose mind is most vulnerable. If another wizard or a witch is trying to gain access to your mind, you need to be implacable like a stone wall. Do not give into them. Stand firm against their mental assault. Gaze them levelly in the eye and meet their challenge.'

'I wish father had taught me that at summer's commencement,' Albus said.

'Your father and I have opposing methods of teaching,' Lubo said. 'He endeavours to have you learn things for yourself. That works in many situations, but not with Legilimency or Occlumency. My method involves teaching the principles and then engaging in the practice. Today I want to extrapolate upon the first principle of Occlumency: the art of holding your own against an opponent. I want you to keep your eyes fixed upon the dragon's skeleton in the corner. Your task is to concentrate on the skeleton and the skeleton alone. I will be attempting to gain access to your mind, but you have to hold your own against me by keeping your mind occupied. In future you will learn to protect your mind, even as you are busy having a conversation with your opponent, but for the time being we shall work on the basic principle.'

Albus nodded and turned to look at the dragon's skeleton in the corner. It was a towering beast with ridges along its spine, and Albus felt threatened by it. He had never paid it much attention in class, but now that he was forced to look upon it, he realized how vicious it looked. He hoped never to meet one in the flesh.

'Are you focusing every thought on the dragon's skeleton?' Lubo asked.

'Yes,' Albus said, but his brain was already imagining Lubo trying to use Legilimency on him.

'Stop thinking about other things,' Lubo cautioned. 'Think of the dragon and nothing else. I will be attempting Legilimency in a few moments, but first you must concentrate harder than you ever have.'

Albus felt a trickle of sweat run down his back. He tried not to think about it. His head was hurting. He tried not to think about that, either. His leg was throbbing where a Bludger had struck him that morning. He tried to block all these thoughts from his head with the image of the dragon's skeleton. Slowly but surely the other feelings and thoughts faded, and there was nothing but the skeleton in his mind's eye.

This lasted about ten seconds before the image of Jeremiah Potter nearly grabbing the Snitch before him popped into his head, quite unexpectedly.

'Forget about the Quidditch,' Lubo said. 'Turn your thoughts back to the dragon's skeleton and do not let my intrusions distract you. I barely scraped the surface of your mind when that image of Quidditch appeared.'

Albus shook his head, somewhat irritated by the thought of Jeremiah Potter. He screwed up his face and virtually glared at the skeleton, determined to keep Lubo out of his head. This time he managed about half a minute before yesterday's argument with Alabastor and William appeared in his mind.

'Concentrate, Albus,' Lubo said, patiently.

The pattern repeated itself again and again. Albus managed to survive Lubo's intrusions for longer each time, but it seemed that this was because she was delving for deeper memories each time, rather than as a sign of Albus improving. Albus recalled the embarrassing Defense against the Dark Arts lesson. He remembered the fight with his father over his lack of progress over the summer. He remembered getting half-moon glasses at Diagon Alley back in June. And finally, with the late afternoon sun burning against his cheek, Albus remembered Victoria's funeral.

He burst into tears. Lubo swept him up into her arms and he was allowed to cry for the first girl he had loved, the one who had died at the age of twelve and could not be here at Hogwarts for her third year. She would never grow up, and Albus would never again share a quiet walk with her on the edge of the Forbidden Forest where the dappled sunlight struck gold in her hair.

'Hush, child,' Lubo crooned, stroking Albus' auburn hair with her slender fingers. 'It is time you released that memory and shed your last tears for Victoria Moody. Come; dry your eyes on this kerchief.'

Albus dried his tears and felt immediately better. Lubo conjured two hot mugs of chocolate from mid-air and they drank in silence.

'I was most impressed with your efforts today,' Lubo said, after much thought. 'I must confess, from listening to your father I expected you to be quite weak. Instead, you resisted my strongest Legilimency for some minutes before I broke through to that painful memory about Victoria. We have spent some three hours here, and I feel that you have made excellent progress this afternoon. Your "homework" for our next session is to practice focusing your mind on objects that are not present. It is much too easy to stare at a dragon's skeleton, but if you have nothing interesting to look at, you have to keep something that is not present fixed in your mind. Practice regularly and we shall repeat this exercise again next weekend. It may pay you to read the text your father gave you as well, _Into the Mind of Thine Enemy._ For now, that is all. You can go.'

Albus headed for the door, feeling much better than he had about his prospects of achieving the skills of Legilimency and Occlumency before year's end. Just as he opened the door to leave, Lubo spoke again.

'And Albus, my son, good luck for the Gryffindor team selection announcement this evening.'

Albus grinned. She must have found that out by reading his mind. He had plenty of work to do before he was a skilled Occlumens.

Albus soon became tense and withdrawn again once he had sat through a nervous dinner in the Great Hall. Everyone on all four House tables was talking Quidditch, and several Slytherins were strutting around looking especially arrogant. Albus quickly determined that the Slytherin captain had wasted no time in selecting the seven biggest, ugliest and fastest players for his team.

After dinner the Gryffindors crowded into their common room. The third years occupied their usual couch in the corner. Nerves seemed to have dissipated the tension between Albus, Alabastor and William, because the trio sat together without a word of disagreement. All of them, Mars included, were awaiting the announcement of the team with bated breath.

At last Thomas Jones made an entry through the Portrait hole. The chatter in the room died down into a quiet hush. Jones made his way with a straight back and determined look to stand on the bottom stair of one of the stairwells, so that everyone would hear him speak.

'After much deliberation,' Thomas said (Albus held his breath), 'and some discussion with our Housemaster, Professor Rolleston, I have selected the Gryffindor House Quidditch Team to defend the title we won two years ago.'

The house cheered. Albus wished they would all shut up and let Thomas get to the important part.

'I will list the team first,' Thomas said, 'followed by three names that I have selected as reserves. We know how vicious Slytherin are, and I want back-ups for the games against Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw if we lose half our team to injury, like we did last time.'

The house booed and hissed. Albus felt like standing up and yelling at them to be quiet, and for Thomas to get on with it.

'The Gryffindor House Quidditch team for the season eighteen fifty four, eighteen fifty five, is…'

'Hurry up!' Albus squeaked. He hastily slapped a hand over his mouth, while the rest of the house laughed at his embarrassing gaffe. It was the first time Albus' voice had changed in pitch. He felt his cheeks burning with shame.

'I would hurry up, Dumbledore, if you would let me,' Thomas said. 'The team for the season is as follows: Beaters, Richard Malkin, fifth year, and Walter Pettigrew, sixth year. The Chasers will be Ella Eades and Alaria McMarsh from sixth year, and yours truly from seventh. The new Keeper is to be William Potter from third year.'

William leaped up and did a strange little jig on the couch, whooping and punching the air. The rest of the house laughed at him also, but William did not care in the slightest. Albus felt like hitting him. His little heart was just about to explode from impatience unless Thomas hurried up and announced the Seeker.

'As for the Seeker's position,' Thomas said, 'I had great difficulty in making my decision. In the end I made what I believe was the right choice. The Gryffindor Seeker this year is Albus Dumbledore from third year.'

Albus jumped up and joined William in another little jig on the couch, nearly trampling on Mars in the process. Albus could not believe how much relief he felt. It was as though the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders and thrown away.

'I am not yet finished,' Thomas said. There was a hint of irritation in his voice. 'As I said, I have picked some reserves. In the event that William Potter is hurt or killed in the Slytherin game, I will be reserve Keeper. I could not find any others good enough to defend the hoops. In my stead, the reserve Chaser will be Mars McGonagal from third year. The reserve Beater is Alabastor Meadowes, also of third year, and the reserve Seeker is young Jeremiah Potter from first year. Congratulations are in order to all. I expect you all to be present on Tuesday afternoon for our first practice.'

The entire house cheered and a curious murmur arose about this talented first year that was good enough to be named a reserve in the house Quidditch team. But the third years were oblivious to all this. Alabastor and Mars joined Albus and William on the couch, doing a wild dance that caused the girls to vacate the couch and storm off in a huff. Albus could not have cared less at that moment. He had his friends back, and all four of them were in the mix in the Quidditch team, even if only two of them were in the actual playing side.

Albus was so worn out an hour later from celebrating, and from the exertions of the long week that had passed by, that he could only manage to stroke Fawkes good night before collapsing in a straggled heap on his bed and falling fast asleep. It was as if his father had given him a sleeping draught, for he slept for ten hours solid without moving a muscle. This was the sign that Albus had truly arrived back at Hogwarts, and was fully immersed in his life there. The holiday already seemed like a distant memory, now that Lubo had plucked it from his mind. He was in his beloved Quidditch team, and had made the first stride towards becoming an Occlumens.


	7. Archaeon's Odd Lesson

Albus Dumbledore and the Wizard's Ruse

Book Three of the _Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts _Series

Disclaimer: this is a work of fan fiction based on the worlds created by JK Rowling. The story is written for entertainment and not for profit.

Author's Note: Read, enjoy, review. That is all.

* * *

"Sharp is the mind that penetrates the other."

Chapter 7 – Archaeon's Odd Lesson

On Sunday morning, after he was picked as Gryffindor House's Seeker, Albus decided to spend the day catching up on some much needed reading. His friends wanted him to join them at the Quidditch pitch to watch the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw trials, but Albus politely declined. With the Gryffindor versus Slytherin match coming up in September he wanted to read _Seeking in Style_, the Jones brothers' gift to him on his birthday. He also had some homework readings to complete from _Transfiguration for Intermediates, Ye Olde Arte of Brewing Potions, Magykel Beastes_ and_ Finding the Inner Eye._ Not to mention that he wanted to tuck into Bagtrand Smythe's _Into the Mind of Thine Enemy_ and he had to fill out Professor Prewett's application form for a new club. It promised to be a busy day and Albus had little interest in the other Houses' trials. He made himself comfortable on his bed in the boys' dormitory, a stack of books on either side of him.

After completing his homework readings Albus took out the official looking scroll he had collected from below Professor Prewett's office the other day. He chewed on the end of his quill while he read the headings.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_Application to Launch a Club or an Organization, 1854/5_

_Proposed Name of Club or Organization:_

_Student Lodging the Application:_

_Inaugural Members:_

_Proposed Meeting Time and Date:_

_Aim of Club or Organization:_

_Describe, in your own words, how your club or organization will benefit its members and Hogwarts:_

Albus took out a spare piece of parchment and started toying with various ideas. Near the end of the last school year he had started contemplating a group to replace the Pirates. He had already discarded the idea of using his own name in the club's title: that would be vain. Thus _Dumbledore's Army_ and _Dumbledore's Faction_ had been binned as potential names. Albus knew that he wanted the words _Explorers, Adventurers_ and _Magical Apprentices_ in the club's title. He started scribbling possible names on the parchment, murmuring to himself as he went.

'The Collaboration of Explorers, Adventurers and Magical Apprentices,' Albus muttered. 'No, I do not like it. Perhaps the Society of … but then again nearly every club at Hogwarts are a Society. I do not wish to be associated with the Society of Owl Lovers or Jenning Ranger's ridiculous Society of Bookworms.'

Albus scribbled down ideas until the parchment was full of words and he was no closer to having a name for his club. He scrunched it up in frustration and threw it against the wall. Feeling rebellious and slightly peeved at his inability to come up with a brilliant name for his club, he set the paper on fire with his wand and then hastily doused it before it could set the curtains on fire. For several minutes afterwards Albus kept scurrying to the dormitory door to see if Professor Rolleston, or worse, Prewett, were coming to expel him for lighting fires.

After a while the paranoia died down and Albus decided to get into the weighty tome his father had given him. _Into the Mind of Thine Enemy_ was a magnificent leather-bound volume that weighed about as much as a Bludger. As was Albus' habit when nobody else was about, he read the book out loud.

'_Into the Mind of Thine Enemy_,' Albus read, '_A Guide to Legilimency and Occlumency_ by Bagtrand Smythe, Order of Merlin, Second Class and Ministry Auror. Introduction: The expert wizard is proficient at the use of Legilimency to divulge his enemy's secrets and Occlumency to guard his own. This…'

Albus stopped himself. Upon saying 'This' his voice had hit the ceiling much as it had last night when he interrupted Thomas Jones in front of the entire House. Albus slapped his hand over his mouth and wondered what had gotten into his voice. He knew well that boys' voices broke at this age, having teased Aberforth when he endured the same vocal instability a few years ago. Now that it was happening to him, Albus did not find it half as amusing. He pulled out his Grade Five _Standard Book of Spells_ and searched for charms to hasten the voice breaking process but could find none. For a moment he considered casting a muting spell on himself, but changed his mind when he remembered that winning points for Gryffindor House in class depended on him being able to answer questions out loud.

Albus was on the verge of continuing reading the first page of _Into the Mind of Thine Enemy_ when he heard someone calling his name from the Gryffindor Common Room.

'Albus,' the familiar voice was saying in a hushed but frantic tone. 'If you are here make haste and come downstairs at once.'

Albus shut the book with a thump and made for the common room as quickly as he could. To his surprise he discovered his father standing there looking disheveled and wearing an old purple robe he'd not worn for a few years. The whiskers of his beard were standing on end and his eyes looked unnaturally wild. The usual magisterial gaze was absent today.

'Father, what are you doing back from the East Indies?' Albus asked.

'Ah, the East Indies, yes, of course,' Archaeon said in a voice that was most unbecoming of him. He gave a quick cough, brushed his hand down his beard and straightened to his full height. The magisterial gaze was back and Albus relaxed. His father must have just apparated in or something and been temporarily disorientated, Albus decided. Archaeon continued, 'sorry, my son, my head is not clear. I have run into some difficulties in the East Indies but I felt it most important to return here for the continuation of your lessons.'

'But mother is teaching me,' Albus said. 'I thought you were going to be too busy with your Archaeowizarding excavations.'

'Indeed, indeed,' Archaeon said. 'Your mother is an exemplary teacher no doubt; nonetheless, I wish to monitor your progress from time to time. Come; show me a quiet room where we can go undisturbed for an hour.'

Albus led his father along the corridors of Hogwarts until they found a deserted classroom. Archaeon quickly performed a locking spell on the door, and muffling spells and anti-spy charms on the walls.

'Are we in danger, father?' Albus asked. 'I only recall seeing you take such precautions last year when you feared that the Germans would spy on us.'

'Many people wish to see my downfall,' Archaeon said, looking wildly about the room as if an insect buzzing about might happen to be an animagus. 'There is never a limit to how many precautions one can take. Come; let us begin your lesson at once for my time is short.'

Albus steadied his mind and focused on a globe of the world that sat on the teacher's desk. He kept all his energies and thoughts trained on this globe, so determined was he to demonstrate to his father that he had improved. For at least two minutes he kept the globe in his mind, until he began to wonder why it was taking his father so long to penetrate his mind. Albus wondered whether he had really improved that much, or if Archaeon had suddenly lost his ability to Legilimens?

The instant Albus had this thought Archaeon penetrated his mind deeper than ever before. Albus saw countless memories he barely knew existed, and they seemingly all involved his father. He remembered the conversation he'd had with Archaeon just before leaving for Hogwarts that year. He remembered Archaeon's explicit descriptions of his plan to excavate in the East Indies, Archaeon's pledge to him that he was well protected at Hogwarts, the summer of apparently fruitless lessons in Occlumency, Archaeon's promise to train him to be a better wizard after the events of last year, and the catastrophic events in the Temple of Ast where Archaeon had been wounded by a Gryffin and nearly overcome by Phineas Nigellus and other dark wizards. It was as though Albus' father was filing through all of Albus' memories of him.

Then Archaeon started penetrating even deeper into Albus' memory. Albus remembered back to the end of first year, when Professors Nigellus and Umbridge had held Albus hostage and threatened to kill him unless Archaeon helped them to navigate the seven chambers of Imhotep. Albus remembered seeing how weak and helpless his father could be when he was endangered.

But Archaeon refused to stop there. He continued to browse Albus' memories of himself. Albus recalled visiting his father on various excavations around the Mediterranean when he was seven, seeing his father dueling with his mother in the gardens around their home when they could not resolve a marital dispute when he was six, and he even remembered being bounced on Archaeon's knee when he was a toddler.

When the Legilimency came to an end Albus had been reduced to his knees and was breathing in gasps. Having his mind probed like that had given him a pounding headache and he could barely see straight. He wondered what in Merlin's name his father was trying to achieve. Whether it was to completely humiliate him or whether Archaeon was attempting to discover something about himself that he himself did not know, Albus was not sure. Albus thought that, whatever it was, his father had been brutally unfair.

'What was that for, father?' Albus said, not the slightest bit concerned that his tone was rude. 'It is not your place to invade my privacy so, and I cannot for the life of me see what I know about you that you do not already know.'

Archaeon looked disheveled again, as if the effort of spending half an hour inside Albus' head was too much for even the great man. He brushed his wayward beard straight again and fixed a hard stare on his son.

'My affairs or intentions are not your concern,' Archaeon said. 'What should be your concern is the fact that your Occlumency is going backwards with every step. You are making no progress whatsoever. I have half a mind to tell your mother to stop lessons altogether. Perhaps you are not yet ready.'

'No!' Albus blurted out. 'Please do not do that, father! You promised that I could learn the arts of Occlumency and Legilimency this year. I just need more time to make progress.'

'Well, I recommend you do not inform your mother that I was here today,' Archaeon said sternly. 'For she will want to know how this lesson went and she would be most displeased to learn that you are making little headway.'

'She said I was doing well yesterday,' Albus said flippantly.

'Albus Dumbledore!' Archaeon yelled, stamping his foot on the floor and sending shivers down Albus' back. 'You will not disobey my order. Tell no one of this visit or I will call an end to your dreams of becoming an Occlumens at age thirteen. Now I must go, for my time is precious.'

Archaeon undid the protective spells in the room and swept out the door. Albus was left with his feet glued to the floor, quite perturbed by his father's unwarranted anger and by the ruthless spell of Legilimency he had just endured. At a whim he managed to snap out of his daze and hasten after his father. There was something not right about Archaeon and Albus wanted to know what was going on. Perhaps the East Indies were having a negative effect on his father's personality.

Albus caught a glimpse of his father running down the corridor in a most ungainly fashion. It was like Archaeon had never before run with his own legs. Albus reasoned that his father was getting old.

On the spur of the moment, Albus attempted to Legilimens the receding figure of his father. Of course, his skills were limited and he hardly dared to believe he could scratch the surface of the great man's mind. But to his intense surprise, Albus caught a glimpse of the family house-elf, Nibs.

Archaeon immediately closed off his mind, spun around, and thundered a warning at his son.

'Never attack someone from behind,' Archaeon snarled. 'That is a cowardly and fiendish thing to do.'

Archaeon cast a spell down the corridor which caught Albus by surprise. He felt an invisible cane lash him on the backside. It lasted only a moment, but stung furiously enough to bring tears to his eyes. By the time he had rubbed away the pain somewhat and blinked away the hurt, his father was gone.

Albus stood unmoving in the corridor for several minutes, contemplating the bizarre sequence of events. He was filled with intense hope that he was making progress in Legilimency by the fact that he had captured a glimpse of his father's mind for the first time ever, but another part of him reasoned that his father probably had too much on his mind and had been unprepared for the attack. More pressing a concern was why his father had made such a vigorous and deep intrusion into his head. Albus seriously flirted with the possibility of telling his mother about it. She would give Archaeon a right talking to for doing that, but Albus was held back by his father's threat of putting an end to his Legilimency and Occlumency lessons. When Albus finally returned to Gryffindor Tower, his head hurt from both the intrusion and the myriad new concerns floating around his head.

Even though it was not yet lunch, Albus felt like he had been through a lifetime in a day, which, in a sense, he had. He clambered on top of his bed and fell asleep at once.

When Albus awoke the sun was streaming on to his face through the window at an obtuse angle, indicating that it was late afternoon. He pushed himself up wearily. His temples still ached and he felt like he'd had no rest at all. The weight of exhaustion hung off his face like an invisible cloak. He rubbed his eyes and realized that he was hungry. Dinner would be served in an hour or so, but Albus doubted he could wait that long. He decided to pay a visit to the house-elf kitchen for a snack.

On the way down through the Gryffindor Common Room, Albus was waylaid by Thomas Jones, who pulled him to a couch and launched into an avid discussion.

'Now that you are officially our Seeker, Dumbledore,' Thomas said, 'I think I ought to tell you that you are central to my plans this season. Given Slytherin's recent history of violence, mind you: if you read _Hogwarts: A History_, you would know that they were once renowned for being sportsmanlike and honourable; nevertheless, given their habit of injuring our team I think it is imperative that you learn to capture the Snitch within a few minutes.'

'Within a few minutes?' said Albus, while his stomach rumbled and he dreamed about food. 'I am not a professional playing for the Caerphilly Catapults, I will have you know.'

'I am aware of that, Dumbledore,' Thomas said. 'However, there is an entire chapter in the book I gave you devoted to the art of swift Snitch catching. Please memorize it before our practice on Tuesday so that you can practice the moves. If you do not catch the Snitch quickly, there is the serious possibility that Slytherin will murder half our team, and that includes your friend William.'

Albus nodded and sighed inwardly. He was absolutely worn out after his father's merciless Legilimency that morning, but he knew that he had a long evening of reading _Seeking in Style_ ahead of him. It was a fairly despondent Albus Dumbledore that walked down to the dungeons to beg for a snack from the house elves. At least they gave him something to smile about: he returned to Gryffindor Tower munching on four pastries with a pair of cream buns in his pocket for later.

At dinner the topic of conversation among the third year boys was, naturally, Quidditch.

'Davey Jones was made Chaser for Hufflepuff,' William Potter snorted into his roast beef. 'It shall be a lark keeping against him.'

'I would be careful before writing him off,' Albus cautioned. 'I played with the Jones brothers in summer and he has developed considerably as a player.'

William muttered something under his breath but did not challenge Albus on his word.

'Ravenclaw look a solid team,' Alabastor said. 'I daresay we may have more competition from them than Slytherin this year.'

'I would not write Slytherin off either,' Albus said, put in the strange position of defending Slytherin's "virtues", if one could call them that. 'Their team is packed full of lugs that could easily smite us all.'

'Then it is up to you to catch that Snitch before we are all smote down,' William said.

'I have already heard that lecture from Thomas,' Albus said. 'Quite how I am expected to Seek like a professional is beyond me.'

'Perhaps you should not Seek that well,' Mars said, a cheeky grin spreading on his freckled face, 'for if one of our Chasers is struck down then I will be promoted to the team.'

'Good thinking, Mars,' Alabastor said, although he sounded serious. 'If one of the Beaters breaks their arms again, then I shall also be in the team. Albus, I charge you to make sure that all four of us are in the Gryffindor team after the Slytherin match.'

'You cannot possibly expect me to delay catching the Snitch so that my team mates can be injured for your sakes,' Albus said. 'That is ridiculous.'

'Speaking of ridiculous, Albus,' William said, 'what is your brother doing?'

Albus turned about to see that his lanky brother was on one knee on the Ravenclaw table in front of a girl with brown hair, his foot in someone else's soup and his knee in the platter of salad. He began to croon the girl in an off-key fashion, while the rest of the school listened in incredulous silence.

'Oh, Ruth Roberts my dear, will you be mine,

For yours is a beauty and presence divine,

I beg of you gorgeous, I beg of you sweet,

For love you I did since our eyes first did meet,

The past must be forgotten, swept from the room,

Forgive the kidnapping of yesteryear my moon,

I was naïve as a child, foolish as a muggle,

But now in wisdom my love to you I smuggle,

Oh, Ruth Roberts, girl of my heart and dreams,

Be mine for I am not the dullard I seems.'

By the time Aberforth had finished the song declaring his love for the new Ravenclaw Seeker, the poor girl had slid so far down in her seat that she was hiding underneath the table. The Gryffindor fifth year boys stood up as one and gave their compatriot a loud standing ovation, and several other boys around the school joined in. The girls started muttering between themselves and the whole of Slytherin burst out in a jostle of sniggers and outright laughter. Eventually Professor Prewett had enough and let out a loud and imperious call for quiet.

'Be still, the lot of you,' Professor Prewett said from her place behind the staff table. 'Dumbledore, will you be as kind as to get your foot out of Everitt's soup, and your body off Ravenclaw's table? And in future, if you wish to serenade Miss Roberts, will you save it for some place where the rest of us do not have to be nauseated by juvenile romances? Twenty points from Gryffindor.'

Aberforth grinned all the way back to the Gryffindor table and winked at his little brother as he walked past. Albus could not help smiling, even though his brother had cost the House the lead in the Championship. He imagined that the fact Ravenclaw were now in the lead might help Ruth Roberts to come around to Aberforth's way of thinking.

After dinner Albus had difficulty concentrating on _Seeking in Style_ in the common room because everyone was talking about Aberforth's brave and foolhardy attempt to win Ruth Robert's heart, and the consequential loss of the lead in the House Championship, albeit a trivial one. That is, everyone except William and Alabastor, who were blathering on about Quidditch again. Albus' head continued to hurt and he wondered if he was going to absorb anything from the chapter he was reading, when Lubo made a sudden and unexpected visit to Gryffindor Tower.

'Albus, Alabastor,' Lubo said, 'please come with me.'

A cry of 'ooh' and 'aah' followed the pair of boys to the Portrait Hole as they obeyed their mother. Albus' immediate thought was that Archaeon had reneged on his word and had told Lubo about that morning's practice. He reasoned that Lubo probably wanted to yell at him for being so useless, and to yell at Aberforth for his song-making in the Great Hall.

Instead, Lubo took the boys into an enclave off one of the corridors and pulled them into a hug.

'There is no easy way to say this, sons,' Lubo said, 'so I will say it quickly. Our dear house elf Nibs is dead.'

'Dead,' Aberforth said, 'how is that possible? He was young in house elf terms, wasn't he?'

'He was young,' Lubo said, stifling a sob. 'I could find no cause for his death, but there were no signs of nefarious activity either at the mansion when I returned this evening to collect something I had left there. I could not even tell when the poor creature died.'

'Perhaps he was miserable because none of us have been at home,' Aberforth ventured.

'That is far-fetched,' Lubo said. 'Come; give me a hug and let us be sad together for our dear Nibs.'

Albus could hear Lubo sniffling by his ear, but he himself was numb. This was the second loss he had suffered in a short time, and he was stunned. Nibs had been a loyal house elf and a kind one at that. There was never a shortage of baking when he was back home, and Nibs went out of his way to make sure that Albus was content at all times. Albus had to bite on his lower lip to defeat the urge to cry. After crying for Victoria yesterday he was determined to stop showing signs of weakness. A man ought not to cry, he thought.

Lubo eventually sent them back to the Tower, promising that she would bury Nibs in an appropriate plot on Dumbledore land. Albus wanted to talk to Aberforth about it, but he seemed preoccupied so he kept quiet. When his friends in the common room wanted to know what his mother had wanted from him, Albus shrugged and made up a lie. That night, he took hours to fall asleep.

All Albus Dumbledore could think about was the fact that he had Legilimensed his father Archaeon and caught a glimpse of Nibs on his father's mind and that less than twelve hours later his mother had arrived with the news that Nibs was dead.

Something very peculiar was going on, and try as he might, Albus could not comprehend it in any way.


	8. The Order

Albus Dumbledore and the Wizard's Ruse

Book Three of the _Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts _Series

Disclaimer: this is a work of fan fiction based on the worlds created by JK Rowling. The story is written for entertainment and not for profit.

Author's Note: These days I have little to say but thanks for the reviews (keep them coming) and let the story speak for itself.

* * *

"In the many the one can find strength."

Chapter 8 – The Order

The morning after Albus learned of Nibs' death, he awoke to an epiphany. He pulled out his application form to start a new club at Hogwarts and started writing immediately. The ideas were fully formed in his head after a long night of sleeping.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_Application to Launch a Club or an Organization, 1854/5_

_Proposed Name of Club or Organization:_

The Order of Explorers, Adventurers and Investigative Magical Apprentices

_Student Lodging the Application:_

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

_Inaugural Members:_

1. Albus Dumbledore

(Albus left the remainder of this column blank for the time being, as he had yet to begin recruiting members.)

_Proposed Meeting Time and Date:_

Sunday afternoons between lunch and dinner

_Aim of Club or Organization:_

The aim of the Order is threefold: to solve mysteries pertaining to its members, to undertake adventures around the school, and to explore the grounds of Hogwarts.

_Describe, in your own words, how your club or organization will benefit its members and Hogwarts:_

The Order will benefit its members in a number of ways. As all members are magical apprentices, it will be a forum whereby we can all develop our skills. We will endeavour to use our magical abilities during our adventures and in the solving of mysteries. In all activities we will seek to improve ourselves and each other. The Order will bring about considerable benefit to its members that way.

* * *

When Albus was finished writing he was wearing a broad grin, tempered in his head by the knowledge that the as yet unfounded Order already had one mystery on its hands: the unusual behaviour of Albus' father yesterday and the strange death of the Dumbledore house elf, Nibs. Once Albus' room mates had woken up, he asked them all to write their names in the inaugural members section. Mars and Edward did so immediately, but Alabastor and William were hesitant.

'This does not sound at all like the Pirates,' Alabastor said. 'It does not sound half as fun.'

'Nor does it mention anywhere that it is only for Gryffindor third years,' William said.

'That is because it is not,' Albus said. 'I intend on inviting students from other years and other Houses to join.'

'You did not mention that to me,' Mars said, frowning.

'I planned on telling you,' Albus said earnestly. 'Surely you are not going to back out on account of other people joining? I do not believe an exclusively Gryffindor club will achieve as much as one that involves members from other Houses with their respective talents.'

'I guess you made your mind up already,' Mars said, by way of agreeing to keep his name on the list. Edward shrugged. He did not care either way.

'I will only join if Slytherin are excluded,' Alabastor said. William nodded.

'That is not fair,' Albus said. 'There are decent folk in Slytherin, if you look for them.'

'Yes, and there are horrid folk in Slytherin, even if you are not looking for them,' Alabastor said. 'That is my condition for joining. You decide.'

'Then I will have to exclude you from my club,' Albus said, wincing as he did so because he did not wish to start another quarrel with his friends. 'If you choose to join at a later stage I will accept you, but I cannot be so selective as to ban members from Slytherin from the outset.'

'I cannot believe you are choosing Slytherin over your own friends!' William cried. Both Alabastor and William tore their bed curtains shut so that they did not have to look at Albus while they got dressed. As soon as they were done they stormed out of the dormitory. They would later sit as far away from Albus as possible at the breakfast table.

'It is their loss,' Edward asserted. 'I believe in the Order.'

'Thank you, Edward,' Albus said. 'At least somebody does besides me and Mars.'

Albus endured a similar debate with the four Gryffindor third year girls at breakfast. When Annabel Bradshaw learned that William was not a member, she refused to sign up. Elizabeth Figg and Maggie Weasley signed up with some hesitation once they learned that Slytherins could join, but Albus pleaded with them and they relented. Emily Marchbanks took the most convincing.

'I can understand your reasoning for abandoning the Pirates,' Emily said, 'as Maggie has explained it to me. But I do not see why we cannot simply create a new Gryffindor club for our year, or perhaps a club that invites only Gryffindors. I could even tolerate Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, but I have never met a Slytherin I liked.'

'That is precisely the problem,' Albus said. 'Everyone has such an intolerant attitude toward Slytherin from the outset. If we give them a chance, we might discover that there are likeable folk within their house. Come on Emily: bear with me on this.'

'Look at what their Quidditch team did to ours a few years ago,' Emily said. 'They are spiteful, vengeful, and violent. In the classroom they are always sniggering and making lewd remarks about us. I do not like them at all.'

'Very well,' Albus said, 'but answer me this: is it your belief that every single member of Slytherin House is vile and horrid?'

'Yes, well, no, probably not,' Emily admitted. 'But that is beside the point.'

'No, Emily, that is exactly the point,' Albus said. 'I am sure that there are good eggs amid the rotten ones in Slytherin, and if I can find them, you might just make a friend or two in the green and silver house.'

'I despise the thought,' Emily said.

'Oh stop it, Emily Jane Marchbanks,' Maggie said suddenly. 'I know you want to join Albus' club so just write your name down.'

'Do not interfere in my discussion with Albus,' Emily said, but her face was softening. She kept looking at the parchment in Albus' hands, until she grabbed it at last, and added her name to it, her cheeks turning pink.

'Thank you, Emily,' Albus said. 'I promise to keep the worst members of Slytherin out of my club. They would be most unlikely to sign up as it is.'

'I hope that is the case,' Emily said, burrowing into her porridge and having nothing further to do with the morning's conversation.

Three of the Gryffindor second years had been listening in. The trio of Gregory Rimmington, Mathilda Malkin, and Allan Glastonbury had adopted Albus as their hero in their first year. The prospect of being in his club was too much to bear.

'Oh do let us join,' Allan blurted out, prompting Mars to drop his spoon in surprise. A glob of porridge rolled down the front of his robe and he cursed his misfortune to start the day with a stain on his clothes.

'_Evanesco,_' Albus said, casually cleaning the porridge from Mars' robe with his wand. He turned to the eager faces of Gregory, Mathilda, and Allan. 'Yes, of course you may. Sign your names to this parchment. We will be meeting on Sunday afternoons.'

* * *

Albus took his parchment to all his classes that week and endeavoured to corner various people that he had decided might be willing to join the Order. He found the Hufflepuff third years most receptive to the idea. Six of the Hufflepuffs joined up, mostly because they had been so impressed by Fawkes during their last Care of Magical Creatures lesson. The Ravenclaw third years were slightly less enthused. They were a particularly academic bunch and most were loyal members of Jenning Ranger's Society of Bookworms. Albus managed to convince a girl called Alice Shaftesbury to join, but it took something of a compromise to get Jenning Ranger to agree to it.

Albus had cornered Jenning outside the library ten minutes before the end of lunch on Tuesday.

'I would like you to join the Order,' Albus said. 'You are exactly the sort of person who will make a good investigative magical apprentice.'

'For the fifth time today, Albus Dumbledore,' Jenning said, 'I am already the founding member of my own club. I will not have time to be a part of yours.'

'That is not an excuse from someone who routinely achieves outstanding grades in class,' Albus said. 'Besides, being a member of my club will be good practice for our more practically orientated subjects like Defense against the Dark Arts.'

Jenning closed his eyes and gave a long sigh before adjusting his spectacles and giving Albus a penetrating look.

'Very well, Albus,' Jenning said. 'I will consent to joining the Order on one condition.'

'And what might that be?'

'That you join the Society of Bookworms,' Jenning said, a triumphant look on his face. Now it was Albus' turn to vacillate.

'Oh no,' Albus said, 'anything but that. I do not wish to bore myself to death poring over old and meaningless texts in the library.'

'Old and meaningless?' said Jenning. 'I will have you know that we examine books of great interest. I have heard that you yourself have an exceptional collection of texts for a thirteen year old. Your books would be of great benefit to my society.'

'But I would die a slow and painfully boring death,' Albus said. He was smiling as he said it, to indicate that he was only half joking with Jenning. The pair had a precarious but interesting friendship, for both of them were brighter than most other kids, and they had plenty in common. This was despite being rivals in class.

'Very well then,' Jenning said, 'consider me out of your precious Order.'

Jenning started to walk away. Albus pressed his fingers into his forehead, trying to decide quickly whether it was worth the sacrifice.

'Jenning, wait,' Albus cried. 'Alright then, have it your way. I will join your stupid Society if you join my Order.'

'You have a deal,' Jenning said, smiling profusely as he added his name to Albus' parchment. 'I recommend you refrain from calling the Society of Bookworms "stupid". After all, you are now a member.'

* * *

On Tuesday afternoon, at Gryffindor's House Quidditch practice, Albus tried to convince his team mates to join his Order. Unfortunately, none of them were interested, and each had a different reason for declining:

'I am too busy with my Head Prefect-ship duties,' Thomas said. 'While I applaud your idea, I do think I am beyond the stage of "magical apprentice", if you will understand.'

'I am a sixth year, you are a third year,' Ella Eades said. 'Work it out for yourself.'

'Oh, that sounds quite lovely,' said the pretty Alaria McMarch. 'But I must decline as I am now studying for NEWT examinations over the next two years.'

'Not for me, thank you,' said Walter Pettigrew in his typically blunt fashion, 'particularly not when my ickle liddle sister is a member.'

'It does sound like fun and games,' said Richard Malkin, 'but I have OWLS this year.'

'I have already said no,' William said, 'so desist from asking before I hex you.'

'You heard what William said,' Alabastor said from the reserve bench, 'and I second that.'

Albus was left downhearted, staring at his parchment, and wishing that he could extend his membership list from the current seventeen. To his surprise he received a tap on the arm from little Jeremiah Potter, the reserve Seeker.

'I will join,' Jeremiah squeaked. 'I think your Order sounds quite nifty.'

'You will be the only first year member, you do realize,' Albus said.

'That suits me,' Jeremiah said. 'Everyone else will be jealous.'

Albus supposed that, for a first year, being a member of a third year's club would be quite an achievement. He let Jeremiah sign on and then went about with the business of trying to catch the Snitch quickly. By the end of the practice Albus was routinely catching the Snitch within five to ten minutes, but Thomas was not yet satisfied that he could prevent the Slytherins from doing significant damage to the team before then.

* * *

Later that same week, Albus started trying to convince members of Slytherin House to join his club. He was infinitely short on luck. The same prejudices that existed amongst Gryffindors against Slytherin were present amongst Slytherins against Gryffindor. They all eyed Albus with suspicion and some even resorted to jinxing him when he asked them to join. Albus was lucky that he had learned the art of deflecting jinxes, as it saved him from acquiring some hideous deformities.

Eventually Albus settled his hopes on Swarbrick Prince, the one Slytherin with whom he had made got along with in the past. The hook-nosed, messy-haired boy, who had little time for anyone but himself, tried ignoring Albus when approached on the bottom floor of Hogwarts. But Albus persisted with his well rehearsed spiel, determined to break down Swarbrick's defenses.

'This is a great chance to make some new friends,' Albus said. 'I have seen that you do not always get along with your fellows in Slytherin. As a member of the Order you will meet interesting people and gain the opportunity to explore some curious mysteries and undertake some terrific adventures. Surely you cannot pass up that opportunity?'

'Perhaps I enjoy being on my own,' Swarbrick grumped.

'I do not believe that for one moment,' Albus said. 'Swarbrick, will you please sign up? Consider it a favour to yourself and to me.'

'Why should I do you a favour, of all people?' Swarbrick said.

'Because,' Albus said carefully, 'I would like you to be my friend.'

It was as if Albus had said a magic word. Swarbrick gave a rare smile, took the parchment from Albus' hands, and signed his name to it.

'Now off with you,' Swarbrick said. 'If anyone in Slytherin hears of this I will be a laughing stock.'

'I will do what I can to preserve your anonymity,' Albus said. 'I look forward to our first meeting, with you there.'

'Whatever you say,' Swarbrick grumbled as he disappeared into the shadows of the dungeons.

Albus subsequently found it difficult to acquire new members, particularly from the older years. It seemed that not one of the fourth years from any of the Houses wanted to have anything to do with the Order. Albus could not fathom why. If only he had realized that for a fourth year to join a club founded by a third year would be a tremendous loss of face, then Albus might not have been so upset by the continued rejections.

There were; however, two fifth years who did join the Order. The first was Aberforth, who did so out of loyalty to Albus. He was also curious once Albus told him, in strictest confidence of course, about Archaeon's strange visit on Sunday and the mystery about Nibs being on their father's mind and then turning up dead that evening. Then, to Albus' complete surprise, Ruth Roberts from Ravenclaw added her name to his list. It quickly emerged that Aberforth's romantic ditty in the Great Hall had won her heart, and she seemed quite happy to join Albus' club if it meant getting to spend an entire Sunday afternoon with her new boyfriend.

* * *

By Friday Albus was at the end of his tether, having asked almost every student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to join, and accumulating only twenty one members, including him. He knew that Professor Prewett was expecting the application form in by the end of Friday, so he decided to flag the recruitment exercise and hand it in after breakfast.

On his way up to the Headmistress' office, Albus was stopped in his tracks by a good looking boy with a thin face, sharp nose, and piercing green eyes.

'Dumbledore, I presume,' the boy said.

'Yes,' Albus said. 'I do apologise, I do not know your name.'

'John Gaunt,' the boy said. 'I am Slytherin's new Seeker.'

'Pleased to make your acquaintance,' Albus said. 'Can I help you?'

'Perhaps,' Gaunt said. 'I heard amidst the mutterings of my House that a certain Gryffindor was forming a club and trying to recruit people from all Houses. While inter-house spirit has never particularly appealed to me, I have heard of your considerable talents. Being rather good myself, I decided that I would like to associate with you on a limited basis.'

Albus was rather taken aback by the arrogance with which the boy spoke, but he was pleased to have a second Slytherin in his club.

'By all means,' Albus said, handing the parchment over to Gaunt. 'It will be a pleasure having you.'

Gaunt signed the parchment, returned it to Albus, and marched off without a word. It was quite the strangest encounter Albus had had all week, but he shrugged it off and continued on his way to Professor Prewett's office.

The Headmistress welcomed Albus into her office and bade him sit on one of her comfortable couches.

'I was just about to file through the applications,' Professor Prewett said, 'so I may as well process yours while you are present. Give it here.'

Albus handed over his now tattered parchment, which had been handled by hundreds of people that week, not all of whom had been careful with it. The final version read as follows:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_Application to Launch a Club or an Organization, 1854/5_

_Proposed Name of Club or Organization:_

The Order of Explorers, Adventurers and Investigative Magical Apprentices

_Student Lodging the Application:_

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

_Inaugural Members:_

1. Albus Dumbledore, 3rd year, Gryffindor

2. Mars McGonagal, 3rd year, Gryffindor

3. Edward Stephenson, 3rd year, Gryffindor

4. Maggie Weasley, 3rd year, Gryffindor

5. Elizabeth Figg, 3rd year, Gryffindor

6. Emily Marchbanks, 3rd year, Gryffindor

7. Allan Glastonbury, 2nd year, Gryffindor

8. Mathilda Malkin, 2nd year, Gryffindor

9. Gregory Rimmington, 2nd year, Gryffindor

10. Davey Jones, 3rd year, Hufflepuff

11. Keiron Bletchley-Adams, 3rd year, Hufflepuff

12. Mary Mudge, 3rd year, Hufflepuff

13. Edith Polkinghorne, 3rd year, Hufflepuff

14. Mark McNee, 3rd year, Hufflepuff

15. Adam Longbottom, 3rd year, Hufflepuff

16. Alice Shaftesbury, 3rd year, Ravenclaw

17. Jenning Ranger, 3rd year, Ravenclaw (and note, Professor Prewett, that Dumbledore is now a member of the Society of Bookworms)

18. Jeremiah Potter, 1st year, Gryffindor

19. Swarbrick Prince, 3rd year, Slytherin

20. Aberforth Dumbledore, 5th year, Gryffindor

21. Ruth Roberts, 5th year, Ravenclaw

22. John Gaunt, 4th year, Slytherin

_Proposed Meeting Time and Date:_

Sunday afternoons between lunch and dinner

_Aim of Club or Organization:_

The aim of the Order is threefold: to solve mysteries pertaining to its members, to undertake adventures around the school, and to explore the grounds of Hogwarts.

_Describe, in your own words, how your club or organization will benefit its members and Hogwarts:_

The Order will benefit its members in a number of ways. As all members are magical apprentices, it will be a forum whereby we can all develop our skills. We will endeavour to use our magical abilities during our adventures and in the solving of mysteries. In all activities we will seek to improve ourselves and each other. The Order will bring about considerable benefit to its members that way.

* * *

Professor Prewett browsed down Albus' parchment for some minutes, her eye boring down through her monocle with eagle-like intensity. Albus fiddled nervously with his hands, awaiting her verdict. He gazed around the handsomely furnished office and for a fleeting moment had a sense of déjà vu, as though in a past or future life he had spent many years in this room.

'I am most impressed, Albus,' Professor Prewett said at last. 'This is quite the most integrated club or society I have ever seen at this school. You have students from five years and all four houses in your "Order", and I daresay your intentions sound far nobler than that dreadful Pirates group you founded a few years ago. For your efforts towards promoting inter-house harmony and interaction I award Gryffindor House with fifty points. You can have the use of the Room of Requirement for your meetings on Sunday afternoons.'

'Thank you, Professor,' Albus said. 'Could you tell me where the Room of Requirement is?'

'Ask John Riddle,' Professor Prewett said. 'I am aware that he makes considerable use of that room. Now, if you please, I have numerous applications to process, and you are going to be late for your first lesson. Good day.'

'Good day, Professor,' Albus said. He departed in a light mood, knowing that Gryffindor had the lead back in the House Championship, and that _the Order of Explorers, Adventurers and Investigative Magical Apprentices_ was now officially a club of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

* * *

Author's Note: Thank you readers for your continued support. Someone pointed out to me that, in canon, Albus Dumbledore claims never to have studied Divination. I will rectify that in an upcoming chapter. I also invite you all to study canon for the origin of the name Gaunt... 


	9. The First Meeting of the Order

Albus Dumbledore and the Wizard's Ruse

Book Three of the _Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts _Series

Disclaimer: this is a work of fan fiction based on the worlds created by JK Rowling. The story is written for entertainment and not for profit.

Author's Note: It is amazing when I read my first two Albus Dumbledore stories to see how I have progressed as a writer just in the space of two years. My writing in the first one is so poor. I can see plenty of flaws in it. I expect in future years I will look back at this and think that this third story is poorly written as well! Furthermore, I've stopped that annoying habit of begging people to review. I was pretty insecure a few years ago with respect to my writing. Thanks, nonetheless, to those who continue to provide me with support and encouragement by your friendly reviews.

Also: to the reviewer who said that the Riddles did not go to Hogwarts, you are correct, but the Gaunts; however, did. That is why the Slytherin fourth year is called John Gaunt. Forgive me if I accidentally typed in 'Riddle' somewhere in the eighth chapter. I meant to type Gaunt.

* * *

"A problem is defined by its solution."

Chapter 9 – The First Meeting of the Order

The first meeting of the Order of Explorers, Adventurers and Investigative Magical Apprentices was held on the Sunday prior to the first Quidditch match of the year. Albus had spent all of Saturday practicing with the rest of the Gryffindor team, because the next Saturday heralded their match against Slytherin. It was a contest the entire school was looking forward to for a number of reasons: it had been a whole year without Quidditch thanks to the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Gryffindor were defending champions, Slytherin had won the trophy the previous ten times under Headmaster Phineas Nigellus, and this match was traditionally the most violent and thrilling encounter of the season.

For Albus Dumbledore; however, the game of Quidditch was not the most important thing on his agenda. He was still befuddled by his father's peculiar behaviour a few weekends back, the death of his family house-elf Nibs, and the apparent connection between the two. It was his intention to make the first meeting of his new Order about this mystery. He hoped that, in this case, twenty-two heads would be better than one.

After lunch on Sunday Albus made his way up to the Room of Requirement, using directions prepared for the Order by the Slytherin fourth year, John Gaunt. Albus was curious to see what this room would provide him with for Order meetings. Gaunt had told him that the Room provided one with whatever you required, whether you knew that you required it or not.

Albus was the first to enter the Room of Requirement that day. To his surprise and delight he discovered that the room was perfectly round, with bookshelves lining the entire wall except for where a blackboard stood on a stand. The shelves were packed to the brim with books new and old. The rich smell of dusty leather covers filled his nostrils. The centre of the room was dominated by a ring of chintz armchairs. Albus counted them up and discovered that there were precisely twenty-two. He was also pleasantly surprised to find a mahogany stand to one side of the room, on which Fawkes was busy preening himself, and that his great-great-great-grandfather Albion Dumbledore occupied the only picture frame in the room on one of the bookshelves. Autumnal sunlight streamed through the only window to the room, illuminating millions of dusty particles that glowed like faeries. It was a wonderful setting, Albus thought with some satisfaction.

It took ten minutes for the other members of the Order to trickle through the door. The last to arrive were the oldest: Aberforth and Ruth Roberts tumbled in looking like they had been rolling in the grass, and John Gaunt sauntered in, peering down at everyone over his thin nose with a look that Albus believed bordered on contempt. He also noted that Swarbrick Prince looked uncertain and almost apprehensive at the sight of Gaunt. The Hufflepuffs were having an animated chat on one side of the ring of chairs, the two Ravenclaws were admiring the bookshelves, and the Gryffindors were looking at Albus, awaiting his instruction. Albus duly cleared his throat.

'I hereby call to order the first meeting of the Order of Explorers, Adventurers and Investigative Magical Apprentices,' Albus said. 'It is my great pleasure to welcome you all to the Room of Requirement today. As you can see, the Room has provided us with a remarkable supply of texts to aid us in our apprenticeship. It is also my hope that we will be able to conduct adventures and explorations beyond the realm of Hogwarts in the coming months, and perhaps, years. I think an appropriate beginning would be if we all take turns to introduce ourselves. I am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, second son of the archaeowizard Archaeon Dumbledore and Professor Lubo Dumbledore who is the new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher, much to my embarrassment. I am a third year in Gryffindor, and will be playing Seeker next weekend…'

'Which will most unfortunately result in your doom,' said John Gaunt, interrupting Albus' spiel. He was playing Seeker for Slytherin. The Gryffindors started hissing and throwing insults at him. Gaunt reacted swiftly. He stood up with his wand out and gave them the most penetrating stare Albus had ever seen someone produce. Being as most of the Gryffindors were either third or second years, they were quickly silenced by the fourth year Slytherin's aura.

'Kindly put your wand away, John,' Albus said, sensing a need to retake control of the meeting before it was brought to a premature end by a joust. 'I think it would be better if we were to abandon our House loyalties for the duration of these meetings. The idea of the Order is that it is a gathering of people with the ambition to become better wizards and witches, and to have a good time doing so. We should not quarrel like … like common Quidditch supporters.'

'Hear, hear,' said Jenning Ranger. John Gaunt shot him a foul look and pocketed his wand. The rest of the Order looked at Albus with enhanced respect. His calm manner and the powerful aura he radiated demanded their obedience. Albus was entirely unaware that he even had an aura, but there was no doubt that he had inherited his parents' ability to exude power.

The members of the Order took turns at introducing themselves. Some, like Swarbrick and Hufflepuff's Mary Mudge, simply said their names and withdrew back into their shells. Others, like Jenning and Aberforth, were verbose to the point of speaking drivel, particularly Aberforth. He launched into an extensive description of his grand adventures unearthing treasures in Egypt. It took Albus a few minutes to realize that, not only was Aberforth talking nonsense, but he was also doing it to impress his girlfriend. The last to speak was Gaunt.

'John Gaunt,' he said, 'fourth year, Slytherin. I am not here to associate with lesser magicians such as are sitting all around me, but to advance my own magical development. To that end, Dumbledore: what precisely can I expect to gain from these sessions? We have wasted enough time on meaningless introductions as it is.'

Albus was careful to note that several people shifted uncomfortably as Gaunt spoke. He sensed that the Slytherin fourth year could easily become a divisive issue within the Order if Albus did not contain his arrogance.

'I expect that you might gain the friendship of other people for one,' Albus said with measured words, 'if you remember that we all have something to offer the Order. You might be the best wizard in here, for all I know, but others in this circle of people have other talents and gifts from which you will learn if you are open to it.'

Gaunt had the decency to look chastened by Albus' words.

'Gaunt is correct about one thing,' Jenning said, earning another scathing look from the Slytherin. 'We have spent some time on introductions and little else. What is the purpose of the Order here today?'

'Have a measure of patience,' Albus said. 'I already have a mystery for the Order to solve. It requires that you all listen carefully to a story I have to tell. Please do not interrupt until I am finished. Then, and only then, may you propose a way to solve it. My father has been trying to teach me Occlumency by performing Legilimency on me. I had not been making any progress until I received a lesson in Occlumency from my mother a few weeks ago. My father told me before school started that he was going to the East Indies to conduct Archaeowizarding digs, and I reliably expected not to see him again until the holidays. To my surprise he arrived the day after my lesson with my mother, and conducted the most intense spell of Legilimency I have ever endured. He searched through all of my memories about him, going back until I was a child. Furthermore, he was behaving oddly and appeared ruffled, angry and, dare I say it, somewhat paranoid. But that was not all: as he was leaving I dared to Legilimens him. For the first time ever, I managed to see someone else's thoughts. I caught a glimpse of our family house elf, Nibs. Then, to make the mystery even more compelling, my mother pulled Aberforth and I out of Gryffindor Tower that evening to inform us that Nibs was dead. Now, Nibs was young in house-elf terms. You all ought also to know that my father is a noble and powerful wizard who has fought many battles in the name of good, not evil. He is so famed and widely regarded that he has been offered the posts of Minister for Magic, a seat on the Wizengamot, and Headmaster of Hogwarts. But he turned these down in favour of his Archaeowizardry. I do not need to say it, but the unexplained death of a house elf and the peculiar behaviour of my father are both cause for investigation. Something unusual is afoot, and I seek your help in solving it.'

Albus had held the room entranced by his story, with the exception of Aberforth and Ruth who were somewhat distracted by each other. There followed a long moment of silence while each of them considered Albus' mysterious tale. Jenning was first to speak.

'Have you considered the _Imperius_ curse?' Jenning said. 'Perhaps some nefarious person has imposed the spell on your father and ordered him to Legilimens you for every memory you have about him.'

'I have already considered that, and it is most unlikely,' Albus said. 'If that person wanted information out of my father and were powerful enough to put an _Imperius_ curse on him, it would be far easier if they simply used Legilimency on him. Besides, I am absolutely certain that no witch or wizard in the world is powerful enough to completely control my father with an _Imperius._ He is too powerful and would resist it.'

'How can you know that for certain?' Swarbrick said. 'You are simply biased because he is your father. There may well be wizards powerful enough to control him with an _Imperius.'_

Albus opened his mouth to defend his father but was prevented from speaking by Gaunt's words.

'You are both correct,' Gaunt said. 'There may well be wizards powerful enough to put an _Imperius_ on Archaeon Dumbledore, but if that were the case they would not need to send him into Hogwarts to Legilimens a thirteen year old boy, particularly as they were searching for memories about Archaeon himself. We must seek other causes.'

'What about the obvious?' the unexpected voice of Keiron Bletchley-Adams, the third year Hufflepuff, said. 'What if Albus' father did in fact kill his house-elf? It might have been accidental, and he simply did not tell Professor Dumbledore to save himself the shame. Perhaps he came to Hogwarts to test Albus afterwards and was distracted because he killed the house elf, and so was particularly rough during the Legilimency.'

Keiron's reasoning seemed to make sense to most of the Order, because they all turned to look at Albus, who had to resist the urge to jinx Keiron in the face.

'No,' Albus said slowly. 'I cannot prove that my father did not kill Nibs, but my mother found no evidence to suggest that the elf was even murdered. Perhaps he just died for some unexplained reason. The true mystery is why Nibs was on my father's mind just hours before he turned up dead, and why my father was searching so meticulously through my mind for memories about himself. It was not as though he was looking at all my memories. I could feel him specifically filing through the vaults in my head for memories relating to him. It was the most peculiar sensation, and left me with a dreadful headache for days after.'

'Polyjuice Potion,' said Ruth Roberts. The Ravenclaw Seeker unlocked her hand from Aberforths and started speaking expressively to the Order, using her hands to emphasize points. 'I think the answer to your mystery may well be Polyjuice Potion. This powerful elixir can be used to make a person have the appearance of another for up to an hour at a time. Often the person does not make a complete transformation, and so can appear disheveled. They most definitely behave in an odd fashion, because they have no idea how the person they are imitating normally behaves.'

'That could indeed explain my father's bizarre behaviour,' Albus said. 'It could also explain why he used Legilimency to search through my head for memories about my father. Now that I think about it, he also insisted that I keep his lesson secret.'

'That is a brilliant suggestion,' Aberforth said, fondly stroking Ruth's brown hair. 'Little brother, I believe we have a new mystery: who is using Polyjuice Potion to imitate our father?'

'Do not believe that to be the answer so swiftly,' Gaunt said. 'I admit that it is a profound suggestion by Roberts. What you must all remember; however, is that to jump to one conclusion before considering all possibilities is a mistake.'

'I agree, John,' Albus said. 'Thank you for your suggestion, Ruth. I will write "Polyjuice Potion" and any other good ideas up on the blackboard so we can keep track of everything the Order considers.'

While Albus wrote _Polyjuice Potion_ on the blackboard in his small, neat and loopy handwriting, the others sat in relative silence, chewing on their thoughts.

'Perhaps we ought to extrapolate on any other strange happenings of late,' Gaunt said. 'Dumbledore, have you noticed anything peculiar at all since you arrived at Hogwarts, or when you were back at home in the holidays?'

'Now that you mention it,' Albus said, 'I recall that on the day I collected an application form to create the Order from Professor Prewett's office, I saw the Minister for Magic Lionel Wilberforce milling about in the corridor.'

'That is hardly peculiar,' said Emily Marchbanks. It was the first time one of Albus' friends had contributed to the meeting and he was becoming worried that they were not interested. Emily went on to say, 'the Minister often visits places like Hogwarts to discuss important matters with important people like Professor Prewett.'

'I know that,' Albus said, 'but it struck me as unusual because he was just strolling around in a rather aimless fashion. That and he pretended that he barely knew me, when last year during the Triwizard Tournament he encountered me on several occasions.'

'That does sound slightly unusual,' Gaunt said, 'but not monumentally so. Write the Minister's name on your board, but I do not think that it is highly significant. That said we cannot exclude anything if we are to solve this mystery. For that matter, write up _Imperius_ and _Dumbledore murdered Nibs_ as well, even though you do not think them likely.'

Albus wrote _Lionel Wilberforce_, _Imperius_ and _My father did not kill Nibs _on the board, quietly wondering who was in charge of this meeting: him, or John Gaunt.

'I have an idea,' said Mars after being silent all meeting. 'Albus, why not write down everyone who may hold a grudge of some sort against your family?'

'Very well thought,' Albus said, just in time to cut off Gaunt from speaking again. He was determined to assert himself as the leader of the Order from the outset. 'There are many people who have issues with my father, let alone my family. From my experience I can name the Black family, the Ministry for Magic, the German Ministry and the Russian Ministry, just to name a few.'

'What about Professor Januar Solstice?' Jenning asked. 'I heard that he was involved in the debacle at the end of the Triwizard Tournament.'

'He was pardoned,' Albus said.

'Write his name down, regardless,' Gaunt said. 'Write down every possibility, no matter how unlikely it is.'

Albus dug the chalk hard into the board as he did Gaunt's bidding, wondering whether it had been a good idea to include the authoritative, arrogant boy in his club. Albus did not realize it, but jealousy was swiftly rising up within his veins.

'What about Grindelwald Grundelwald?' Edward Stephenson suggested.

'He is only eleven years old,' Albus said, but knowing what Gaunt would say if he didn't, he wrote Grindelwald's name on the board.

'Do not forget the Fudge family,' Aberforth added. 'Remember that when you went into Imhotep's crypt with our father, Fudge was killed, and I imagine his surviving family may hold a grudge.'

'Dare I say it, but your father is a highly unpopular man,' Davey Jones said with wide eyes. Everyone in the room stared at the blackboard, which was now littered with the enemies of Archaeon Dumbledore and his family. It read:

_Polyjuice Potion_

_Imperius Curse_

_My father did not kill Nibs_

_Lionel Wilberforce?_

_The Black family?_

_The Ministry for Magic?_

_The German Ministry?_

_The Russian Ministry?_

_Professor Solstice?_

_Grindelwald?_

_The Fudge family?_

'There is one more I ought to add,' Albus said, a grim thought crossing his mind. He wrote:

_Imhotep?_

'I thought the Egyptian God Horus destroyed Imhotep forever in the Chamber of the Everlasting Flame,' Mars said.

'I thought so, too,' Albus said, 'but then I thought my phoenix had destroyed him forever in his Crypt at the end of my first year, and he came back when Professor Solstice used his staff to bring him to life.'

'That is good thinking, Dumbledore,' Gaunt said. 'Dark wizards have been known to store versions of their souls in inanimate objects. It guarantees them eternal life, or so they believe.'

'How do you know that?' cried Maggie Weasley. She was outraged, and so were some of the others in the room. They were looking at John Gaunt as if he was a dark wizard about to murder them all.

'I am widely read,' Gaunt said simply. Maggie and several others continued to eye Gaunt with suspicion for the remainder of the meeting. Albus, sensing the possibility of a revolt, changed the direction of the conversation immediately.

'Now that we have a list of possibilities,' Albus said, 'I think we must split up into smaller groups and start acting out our Investigative Magical Apprenticeship, so to speak. This is the Room of Requirement, and it has provided us with hundreds of books, so the answers must surely be in some of them.'

Albus paused for a moment while he tried to figure out how to divide up the Order. He was tempted to make divisions based on the houses, but that would defeat the purpose of his club.

'Edward, Allan, Keiron, Adam and Swarbrick,' Albus said, 'would you please use the books on the shelves to investigate strange deaths of house-elves. I am sure you must be able to find something on the subject.'

The first four gladly got to their feet and started scouring the shelves for books on house-elves, but Swarbrick looked daggers and started muttering something about "filthy, worthless creatures… all better off dead anyway."

'Elizabeth, Gregory, Edith, Jenning and Ruth,' Albus said, 'yes, Aberforth, I am separating you two. Could you fellows please investigate the use of the Polyjuice Potion and any other magic used to imitate someone else and see what you can come up with? Mars, Emily, Davey, Mark and Jeremiah, would you be kind enough to research the use of the Imperius potion and any other ways of controlling someone? Maggie, Mathilda, Mary, Alice and Aberforth, please look into the Black and the Fudge families using these books. Perhaps there is some information about them that we can use as clues.'

The Order got to work without complaint, with the exception of Aberforth who grumbled about being assigned to work with four girls other than his girlfriend.

'You did not name me,' Gaunt said.

'I would like you to research the preservation of the soul in other objects,' Albus said. 'It sounds like very dark magic and you might be the only one here old enough to understand what the textbooks say. Try to figure out how an ancient Egyptian wizard like Imhotep might have done it.'

Gaunt seemed very pleased with his assignment and got to it at once. Albus had left himself the task of reading about Lionel Wilberforce, the Minister for Magic. Now that he remembered the encounter, it seemed to take on much greater significance than everyone else seemed to think. There _had_ been something odd about the Minister's behaviour that day, and Albus was starting to wonder if there wasn't maybe a link.

The Order of Explorers, Adventurers and Investigative Magical Apprentices spent a comfortable afternoon in the hazy warmth of the Room of Requirement, reclining in their armchairs and browsing through dozens of books apiece. Albus was taken with the breadth and scope of their interest. There seemed a genuine will in the room to help him solve the mystery, and even people like Swarbrick settled down to the task before long. Albus had a difficult time looking for books on the current Minister for Magic, but was eventually directed to one by the portrait of Albion Dumbledore. It was a thin book with a black spine entitled: _A Manifesto for Change_ by Lionel Wilberforce, Order of Merlin - Second Class.

Albus settled in his armchair and started reading. He soon discovered that it was heavy going. It was a political piece written by Wilberforce before he became Minister for Magic, and was clearly designed to try and impress the people who would later vote him into the position. It droned on for pages at a time about certain issues facing wizard-kind and so on and so forth. Albus felt his eyelids becoming droopy and heavy, but not before he vaguely noticed references to the financial generosity of so and so and so and so. There were familiar names mentioned, but Albus' dwindling interest meant that he did not wholly register the recurrence of the names Black, Fudge and Gaunt.

At the end of the afternoon Albus snapped out of his doze and called upon the attention of the other members of the Order. He asked a representative from each group to present their most relevant findings to the rest of them. Keiron, representing those who researched house-elf death, was first to speak.

'A house elf can die from one of the following means,' Keiron said, 'neglect by their family, being freed by their family, being murdered or by old age. And by old age, we mean, at least a hundred years old.'

'We Dumbledores did not neglect or free Nibs,' Albus said, 'and he was not one hundred years old, either. So that leaves murder as the only alternative. Are you sure that you did not find any other ways that a house elf could die?'

'I am certain of it,' Keiron said with some confidence. Albus nodded and added the words _Nibs murdered_ to the blackboard. He called on Ruth to present what those researching the use of Polyjuice Potion to imitate people had found.

'There are two ways to imitate someone else,' Ruth said, 'either by Polyjuice Potion or by using the inherited skill of Metamorphmagi. Only a Metamorphmagus can imitate another person without using Polyjuice Potion.'

'So this is a possibility,' Albus said, 'although I still favour Polyjuice Potion. Perhaps someone could volunteer to go away from this meeting and try to find out who in England is a Metamorphmagus?'

'I will,' said Mars. 'I will send an Owl to my parents and ask them. They are both in the Ministry.'

'Thank you,' Albus said. He turned to the group that had researched the use of the _Imperius_ curse and other methods of controlling people. Emily spoke on their behalf.

'The _Imperius_ curse is the only way to control another person entirely,' said Emily. 'The truth potion, Veritaserum, can be used to obtain the truth, and threats can be used to force people to do things. But only the _Imperius_ curse is all encompassing. It can also be resisted, and a powerful wizard like Archaeon Dumbledore would be extremely difficult to control.'

'Just as we thought,' Albus said. 'That does not really get us any closer to the answer. What about you, Aberforth? Did your group find out anything interesting about the Black and Fudge families?'

'Not particularly,' Aberforth said. 'There is some inter-marriage between them because they are both pureblooded families. It is possible that they are working together against our father, but we really could not obtain any clues in our readings. I did find a wonderful book on pranks to peeve Professor Prewett by; however.'

'Aberforth Dumbledore,' Albus said sternly, sounding very much like his father. 'Desist from using the Room of Requirement for your own mischievous purposes.'

'Yes, Headmaster Dumbledore,' Aberforth said with a wink. The Order laughed. Albus had to smile, but soon resumed an air of seriousness and turned to Gaunt.

'The Egyptian dark lord Imhotep could have preserved his soul in as many as four or five different objects,' Gaunt said. 'Any more would make the pieces of the soul unstable. You would be insane to split your soul into six or seven pieces. Given that the staff and the corpse of Imhotep are destroyed, there could be two or three more objects.'

'Imhotep's Crypt!' cried Mars suddenly. 'He had five vaults, remember? The tomb was in one, and the staff was in another. What if Imhotep left a piece of his soul in each of those vaults?'

'Oh, Merlin's beard,' Albus said. 'This is most disturbing! My father said that Imhotep's Crypt had no magic left, but if he was wrong then the Black and Fudge family could complete Professor Fudge and Phineas Nigellus' attempt to raise Imhotep from the dead.'

'I am not finished yet,' Gaunt said, giving Albus a cold stare. 'Egyptian magic is believed by some to have been more advanced than anything we have ever conjured up ourselves. There is the distinct possibility that, if raised from the dead, Imhotep would be too powerful to be defeated by any wizard or witch alive today.'

'Albus' phoenix destroyed Imhotep,' Mars said in a defensive tone.

'Imhotep was only half re-born at that time,' Albus said, realizing that Gaunt was correct. 'I think we have little time at our disposal. Here is my plan: Mars, you are to write to your parents and find out about Metamorphmagi. The rest of you are to work hard at your Defense against the Dark Arts, and perhaps we shall spend the next meeting practicing. I believe we have a visit to Hogsmeade coming up soon. We can use that as a cover for going to Imhotep's Crypt in Egypt, if Fawkes can find it for us. I know that my father hid the entrance using powerful magic.'

'That sounds like a thrilling adventure,' Jenning said with undisguised glee at the possibility of going to Egypt.

'I do not think your phoenix can transfer twenty-two people to Egypt at a time,' Gaunt said. 'Perhaps the trip should be reserved for those who have more experience with magic.'

'Not to mention that some will have to stay behind in Hogsmeade to act as a cover,' Aberforth said. Soon the whole room was filled with rising voices as people quarreled over who had the right to go to Egypt with Fawkes.

'Silence, if you please,' Albus cried. 'Do not start quarreling again. Closer to the time, we shall decide who will go and who will stay. The first and second years cannot come to Hogsmeade anyway, so they are ruled out. Some of the third years will have to act as our cover in Hogsmeade, in case any teachers wonder where we have disappeared to. But I assure you that everyone will get the opportunity to take an active part in adventures at least once this year. Now I think we have exhausted the afternoon and it is time for dinner. So I thank you all for your attendance. Good night.'

The prospect of an adventure in a few weekends time meant that everyone left the meeting in high spirits, chatting enthusiastically about what a great idea Albus' Order was. A few of his friends lingered behind; however, to voice some of their concerns.

'Gaunt is a vile creature,' Maggie said, the moment she was sure that he had left the Room of Requirement and was out of earshot.

'Yes, I do think you should remove him from the Order,' Emily said. 'He knows some intimate details of the Dark Arts.'

'And he is dreadfully arrogant,' Edward added. 'He looked at me like I was a muggle, which, I suppose, I am. But it was unpleasant all the same.'

'Listen,' Albus said, 'I understand all of your concerns. I do not ask you to like John Gaunt, but I do ask you to tolerate him. His insights have brought us a long way closer to solving this mystery. Please do not abandon me, my friends.'

'We will not abandon you,' Maggie said, 'we just do not like the Slytherin Seeker.'

'But can you tolerate him?' Albus asked. By the non-committal responses he received, Albus figured not. He had no choice but to ignore his friends' complaining. Gaunt seemed to know a great deal about Imhotep's magic, and Albus reckoned he would need the Slytherin fourth year in a few weeks time when they went to Imhotep's Crypt to investigate the possibility that the Egyptian Dark Lord had split his soul into more than two pieces.

All in all, Albus thought that it had been a very productive first meeting of the Order of Explorers, Adventurers and Investigative Magical Apprentices, but by the look of the list of mysteries on the blackboard, Albus thought his life might just have got more complicated than ever before.


	10. Gryffindor versus Slytherin

Albus Dumbledore and the Wizard's Ruse

Book Three of the _Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts _Series

Disclaimer: this is a work of fan fiction based on the worlds created by JK Rowling. The story is written for entertainment and not for profit.

Author's Note: Someone tried to correct me by saying that nobody has ever split their soul into more than two, according to Dumbledore in HBP. Well, so far I have not misinterpreted canon because Imhotep split his soul between his corpse and his staff. Albus and friends were only speculating that the Egyptian Dark Lord might have split it into more than two. Perhaps that is just a dead end in the mystery… then again, perhaps it is not…

* * *

"Place a boy on a sports field and all rational thinking departs him."

Chapter 10 – Gryffindor versus Slytherin

If Albus thought that he would have time on his hands to ponder the many mysteries that had been thrown up during the first meeting of the Order on Sunday, he was sadly mistaken. Monday to Friday evaporated in a maelstrom of scrolls of homework and Quidditch practices as Thomas Jones drove the Gryffindors into the ground ahead of their crucial match against Slytherin. The only progress made that week with respect to the mystery was seeing Mars send an owl to his parents to enquire about Metamorphmagi in England. The other notable event was being cornered by John Gaunt in between classes on Monday morning.

Now, Albus had a retinue of people accompanying him to and from classes that week to keep him safe from Slytherins, as did the rest of the Gryffindor team. Likewise, the Slytherins were marching about in groups of ten to defend their players. One such group encountered Albus and his security guards in the middle of a corridor. The tall and imperious figure of John Gaunt was in the midst of it.

'Dumbledore, I need a word with you,' Gaunt said.

'Absolutely not,' said Mars, who stood with his wand out at Albus' right hand. 'We do not trust you not to attack our Seeker.'

'I have no interest in harming Dumbledore,' said Gaunt. 'I need a word.'

Some of the Slytherins were discomfited by this, given that Gaunt was _their_ Seeker.

'What if Dumbledore harms you?' one of his colleagues said. 'How can you be certain to trust him?'

'I am a superior wizard to Dumbledore,' said Gaunt, 'and do not fear him.'

'You are most certainly not superior to…' began Emily Marchbanks, standing to Albus' left. Albus was quick to interrupt her so as not to let the situation deteriorate into a duel.

'Could everyone just back away for the briefest of moments,' Albus said. 'Gaunt wants a word with me, and a word with me he shall have. We are both competent enough to defend ourselves from attack, whether you believe it or not.'

The Gryffindors reluctantly stepped away from Albus. They retreated to stand against the wall of the corridor, awaiting Albus' return. Gaunt gave a curt nod to his entourage and they did the same, standing twenty strides from the Gryffindors. The two groups eyed one another suspiciously while Gaunt took Albus by the arm and pulled him behind a suit of armour.

'Dumbledore, I have been thinking about the mystery surrounding your father,' Gaunt began, 'and I think it would be wise if you do not communicate your suspicions to either your mother or your father just yet.'

'I have not said anything as yet,' Albus said. 'But why do you think I should remain silent?'

'Because,' Gaunt said, 'we know too little to make any clear assumptions. If the person who Legilimensed you that day was someone using Polyjuice Potion or Metamorphmagi to imitate your father, then conveying your concerns to him would give away the fact that you are aware of the deception. Likewise, if it is actually your father behaving in an odd fashion, you would risk his anger by questioning him. Either way, we do not want anyone knowing that we are investigating this mystery.'

'That is very good thinking,' Albus said. 'Thank you, John.'

'The name is Gaunt,' the fourth year said. He swept away from Albus and rejoined his cronies. Before they could disappear around a corner, Albus called out after him.

'By the way, John Gaunt,' Albus said, 'good luck for the Quidditch match on Saturday.'

'Save the luck for your self,' Gaunt said over his shoulder. 'I will not need it.'

Albus looked around at his friends and saw that Emily Marchbanks and Maggie Weasley in particular were seething.

'That is quite simply the vilest human being I have yet encountered,' Emily said.

'He is arrogant beyond reckoning,' Maggie added. Albus laughed.

'He is harmless,' Albus said. 'He can use all the grand words and posturing he wants, but until he demonstrates his worth on the Quidditch pitch, they are only words.'

'What did he want with you, anyway?' Mars asked as they made their way to their next class.

'Oh, he simply advised me not to speak to my mother or father about this mystery,' Albus said. 'Whatever is going on, I think it is best we keep our investigation quiet for the time being.'

'That is a good idea,' Mars said. Emily and Maggie both shot him a foul look. Albus noticed, and wondered if his friends were not as guilty of prejudice as the Slytherins they so reviled.

* * *

Saturday morning dawned blustery and overcast for the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Despite the grim October weather, the entire school made their way down to the Quidditch pitch to watch wrapped in cloaks and woolen scarves. Hogwarts loomed like a gothic castle against the grey skies, and with the Forbidden Forest dark and ominous on the hills opposite, one might have been forgiven for believing that ill portents surrounded the match. The students of the four Houses were fairly buzzing with excitement. The Slytherins had a set look about them, determined to regain what they believed was rightly theirs: the lead in both the House Championship and the Quidditch Cup. The Gryffindors were energetic and boisterous in their stand, singing rallying cries and making the most noise out of all the houses. As leaders in the Championship and defending Quidditch champions, they had reason to be in good spirits in spite of the weather. Despite their general optimism; however, there was an edge to their mood: the last match against Slytherin two years ago had resulted in several nasty injuries to their players. Neither the Ravenclaws nor the Hufflepuffs were sure who they wanted to win. A Gryffindor win would make it very difficult for the other houses to capture the House Championship, but nobody truly felt like they could tolerate a Slytherin victory. In all: the Quidditch pitch resonated with noise as the whole school waited for what promised to be a classic encounter.

In the Gryffindor changing shed, Albus was jittery. He had been sitting in his Quidditch uniform for almost an hour, jangling his broom in his hands and tapping the ground with his feet. His sole was patting the ground at a hundred taps a minute, and his throat was dry. Richard and Walter were tossing a heavy ball back and forth at one another to warm up their shoulders. Ella and Alaria both looked as pale and nervous as Albus, sitting shivering on a bench opposite where he did. Perhaps the most nervous of all was William, who was sitting close to Albus with wide eyes and a pounding heart. Thomas, meanwhile, was pacing the floor talking incessantly.

'… and as we talked about Thursday,' Thomas was saying, 'the triplicate maneuver is going to be our best shot of scoring frequently. Provided Walter and Richard keep the Bludgers off us, we should be able to execute efficiently…'

Albus was only half paying attention to Thomas' unceasing monologue. He knew that victory relied on a swift capture of the Snitch, in spite of what Thomas was saying: nothing less than that would prevent the Slytherins from murdering his team mates.

After what had seemed like a lifetime, the call came for the two teams to walk on to the pitch. A lion's roar echoed around the stadium as the Gryffindors jogged out into the dim light. The Slytherins responded with a unified hissing sound as their team did the same. The two captains came together next to the referee, Madam Cross, the Librarian.

'I demand a clean match,' Madam Cross said. 'At the first sign of foul play I will be awarding multiple penalties. Play fair or face the consequences.'

Thomas and the opposing captain shook hands for longer than was necessary and then the whistle blew to signal the start of the match. Fourteen able-bodied fliers shot up into the sky, followed by a Quaffle and two Bludgers. As usual, the Golden Snitch vanished without a trace before Albus could even sight it.

Albus made straight for his favourite position, a hundred feet above the three Gryffindor hoops. From here he could scan the stadium for the sight of a flash of gold or a spark of light that might give away the location of the Snitch. He was joined by John Gaunt, who hovered a dozen feet away from Albus.

'I shall be on your shoulder all match,' Gaunt said. His voice was unnaturally cold and actually made Albus' hairs stand on end.

'Do as you wish,' Albus said under his breath. 'The Snitch is still mine.'

Albus was unable to adhere to Thomas' instruction that he catch the Snitch within a few minutes, because it was nowhere to be seen. He tried scanning the pitch for a sight of it, but it had disappeared completely. As usual, Albus became distracted by the other events going on in the field of play. Directly beneath him, William Potter was enduring a torrid time in front of the hoops. Slytherin had conjured up a brilliant strategy whereby one of their Beaters would send a Bludger at William moments before their Chasers launched the Quaffle at the hoops. Invariably, William would have to dodge to avoid the Bludger and the Quaffle would sail through the goals.

From his vantage point Albus was able to see the pattern unfolding. He decided that something had to be done about it. He shot off in the direction of Walter Pettigrew. True to his promise, Gaunt followed him, thinking that Albus must be after the Snitch. Albus figured that Gaunt's strategy was not to search for the Snitch himself, but only to react to whatever Albus did. This was presumably to give the Slytherins enough time to inflict harm on Albus' Gryffindor teammates.

Albus found Walter trying to wrest a Bludger away from the other Slytherin Beater.

'Walter,' Albus called down, 'the Slytherin Beater is targeting William every time their Chasers take a shot at goal. If you do not keep the Bludgers off of him, then the Slytherins are going to keep scoring all day.'

'Very well,' Walter said, 'but you ought to be hunting for that Snitch, not watching the game.'

Albus returned to his post high above the pitch, accompanied by Gaunt. He noted with some satisfaction that Walter was now doing an admirable job of circling the hoops and deflecting any Bludgers that were sent in William's direction. William was suitably relieved and had started saving goals. This seemed to bolster his confidence as the Gryffindors in the stands cheered loudly with each save. Meanwhile Albus let himself be distracted by the commentary of Ron Lovegood, the sixth year commentator from Ravenclaw.

'The Gryffindors in possession of the Quaffle now,' Ron was booming with a magically enhanced voice. 'Eades, to McMarsh, to Jones, and back to Eades again. This triple maneuver is working wonders for the Gryffindors and the Slytherins seem unable to defend against it. McMarsh in possession, back to Jones and… he scores! Another ten points for Gryffindor as they retake the lead. What a game we have here. Gryffindor lead by eighty points to seventy. That's the seventh time the lead has changed hands today.'

Albus noticed Gaunt flying off out of the corner of his eye. His heart skipped a beat, thinking that Gaunt must have spotted the Snitch. He went in pursuit of the Slytherin fourth year, who flew in a wide arc around the stadium and arrived next to the Slytherin hoops.

'Blade,' Gaunt cried out to the Slytherin Keeper. 'The Gryffindors are using a three-pronged attack on the hoops but it ends up in Jones' hands most of the time for the strike. Ignore the other two and concentrate on Jones.'

Albus realized that Gaunt was also an astute reader of the game. He chose to fly in the direction of Thomas, who was trying to recapture the Quaffle from the Slytherin Chasers.

'The Slytherins know about the triple play,' Albus said. 'The Keeper is going to be watching you for the shot. Get Eades or McMarsh to score instead.'

'Thanks, Dumbledore,' Thomas said, 'and you had better go looking for that Snitch before Gaunt gets his grubby paws on it.'

Albus wheeled about and returned to a position high above the pitch. Despite their early concerns, Gryffindor were holding up very well against the Slytherin Beaters. Two years ago, Pettigrew had been a fourth year and Malkin a third year. Now the pair were sixth and fifth years respectively, and seemed to be the physical equals of the Slytherin Beaters. As a result, nobody had been injured by a Bludger yet and Albus hadn't even seen one come his way.

'Gaunt, at your service,' said the familiar voice of the Slytherin fourth year. He had returned from discussing tactics with his Keeper and was once again hovering next to Albus. Albus chose to ignore him this time, and reverted to searching for the Snitch.

'What a fabulous play by Gryffindor,' cried Ron Lovegood. Albus could not help listening in. 'They seem to have adjusted their tactics and now McMarsh is scoring at will through the left-hand post. Another goal for Gryffindor and the score is one hundred and forty to eighty.'

The roars of approval from the Gryffindors in the stand echoed around the stadium. Albus let his eyes follow the game and noticed that William was now riding on confidence and saving numerous goals. Thomas was in the form of his life, intercepting at least one in every three Slytherin passes and using Eades and McMarsh either side of him to confuse the Slytherin Keeper. Thomas would delay his pass until the last possible moment before offloading to either of the other Chasers, who could then score through undefended hoops. The Slytherin Beaters were struggling to keep up with the furious flying of Pettigrew and Malkin, both of whom were giving the Slytherin Chasers a torrid time with the Bludgers.

'Gryffindor score again,' Lovegood cried. 'Eades scores her eighth and Gryffindor lead by two hundred to ninety. Slytherin look completely out of sorts today.'

Suddenly Albus' and Gaunt's lofty position above the field of play was disturbed by the arrival of one of the Slytherin captain, one of their Chasers.

'Gaunt, the prerogative is on you now,' his captain said. 'We are going down in a ball of flame unless you can capture that Snitch.'

Slytherin's captain rejoined the fray and Gaunt took action at once. He abandoned Albus and started flying in a wide circle around the outside of the stadium. Albus had no choice but to follow. The last thing he needed was for Gaunt to happen upon the Snitch and steal an unlikely victory for Slytherin. With Gryffindor in complete control, Albus and Gaunt now switched roles: Gaunt was the Snitch-hunter and Albus simply had to follow Gaunt's every move.

Albus had to push hard on his broom to catch up to Gaunt, who was also the owner of a Cleansweep Two. The pair was soon flying shoulder to shoulder at a hectic speed. Their heads moved from side to side, searching the air for that giveaway glint of light. They had just swooped low over the heads of supporters from Ravenclaw when they spotted it simultaneously. It was dancing around at the foot of the Slytherin hoops.

Without a word to each other, and straining every sinew in their young bodies, Albus Dumbledore and John Gaunt surged downwards towards the Snitch. A gasp went up from the crowd when they realized what was in motion and even the six Chasers and four Beaters stopped playing momentarily to watch their Seekers battle it out.

The Golden Snitch apparently noticed that the Seekers were on their way because it shot off at an acute angle. Albus and Gaunt had to veer to the left to follow it. Now they found themselves just meters away from the Snitch and nothing separated the two of them. Gaunt surprised Albus by ramming his left shoulder into him. Albus was knocked out of the line of flight but quickly resumed the chase. He returned the favour into Gaunt's left shoulder, sending the Slytherin fourth year directly towards the Gryffindor stand. Gaunt had to execute a deft turn to avoid plunging straight into the mass of baying Gryffindors. He would not go down without a fight; however, and was soon back on Albus' shoulder. The pair was similarly matched for height, size and flying skill. Realizing that repeatedly flying into one another was a futile exercise, they started flying in a helical shape around one another as they pursued the Snitch. Another gasp went up from the crowd as they saw the furious, dizzying pursuit gather in intensity. The Snitch was jetting away at an even faster pace but the two boys would not give up.

'What a remarkable sight,' Lovegood was screaming. 'Dumbledore and Gaunt are flying like water down a drainpipe as they chase down the Snitch! Remember that Gryffindor leads by two hundred and fifty to one hundred and ten, so Gaunt can still snatch the unlikeliest of victories if he can see off Dumbledore.'

Neither Albus nor Gaunt heard what Lovegood was saying, nor did they pay any attention to the screams and yells of the crowd. Both were one hundred percent focused on the tiny golden speck just a dozen yards or so ahead of them. With every dive or sideways dart that the Snitch gave, the two Seekers would duly divert their own course. Albus could feel the blood rushing about in a mad spin inside his head, and he felt like he was ready to vomit. But nothing could possibly deter him from continuing the chase. At that moment, nothing in the world seemed more important than capturing the Golden Snitch.

Suddenly the two Seekers were accompanied by other fliers. Richard Malkin was flying at Albus' left hand side, his Beater's bat held aloft to protect the Seeker from a barrage of Bludgers. A Slytherin Chaser was flying alongside Gaunt, trying to yell something at him. With the wind rushing through their hair and past their ears, both Gaunt and Albus could only catch snippets of the Chaser's words: '…leave…we… trail…and sixty points…'

At that precise moment several things happened. A Bludger struck Malkin in the side of the face and he fell off his broom. Albus instinctively turned to look and was caught in the face by Malkin's loose bat. Albus nearly lost hold of his broom and was seeing stars for several seconds before he could see properly again. By then Gaunt was hundreds of feet ahead of him and reaching out for something that shone rather brightly. Malkin was out cold on the ground below, and staff members were rushing down from their seats to see if he was alright. Albus watched with a cold dread as Gaunt successfully closed his hands on the Snitch. And then there was a full three seconds of dead silence around the stadium.

'Gaunt catches the Snitch,' Lovegood cried at last, his voice hoarse. 'Gaunt catches the Snitch, but oh what folly! Two extra goals by Jones in the interim gave Gryffindor a two hundred and seventy to one hundred and ten point lead. That means that Gryffindors are the winners by ten points! Gaunt catches the Snitch, but Gryffindor win!'

It took Albus a couple of moments to digest what had just happened, and then he was ecstatic. The personal defeat of having lost the Snitch to Gaunt evaporated in the joy of Gryffindor's victory. He flew down to join his team mates, who were gathering at the side of the unconscious Richard Malkin.

'Brilliant work, Dumbledore,' Thomas said, grabbing Albus in a hug and patting him on the back. 'You kept Gaunt off that Snitch long enough for us to take an unassailable lead.'

Albus shook hands with his team mates and they all grinned like little children, before their attention was irrevocably drawn to their stricken Beater.

'How is he?' Albus asked.

'Malkin will be fine,' said Madam Rose, the curator of the Hospital Wing. 'He sustained a nasty blow but my potions will put him right.' She cast a levitating spell on Malkin's lifeless body and proceeded to carry him up towards Hogwarts castle. The Gryffindor team followed respectfully, even though the other members of the House wanted a piece of them. It seemed appropriate that they should accompany Malkin to the Hospital Wing before celebrating properly.

'You did a terrific job,' Albus said to William, who looked awestruck by the moment and the glory that accompanied it. 'Once I told Pettigrew to keep the Bludgers off you, you had no trouble keeping the Slytherin Chasers at bay.'

'That was you?' William said. He gave Albus what amounted to the first smile between them in weeks. 'Thanks, Albus. Your flying was rather spectacular yourself.'

'Alas, but I was confounded by Gaunt,' Albus said.

'That is not your fault,' Alaria McMarsh said, putting a light hand on Albus' shoulder. 'Malkin failed in his task and if it had not been for his bat striking you in the face, I am certain you would have beaten Gaunt to the Snitch.'

'So am I,' William said, beaming at him. Albus grinned. He had his friend back, and he could not help but glow in the aftermath of the compliment from the blonde, blue-eyed Gryffindor Chaser. Albus did not know it, but the throbbing in his head was less a result of flying in a vortex than a feeling of intense attraction toward the beautiful sixth year, McMarsh.

Once Malkin had been taken care of in the Hospital Wing by Madam Rose, the Gryffindor team headed back to the tower for the celebrations that were due to follow. Albus; however, was intercepted by his mother.

'A quick lesson in Occlumency, if you will,' Lubo said, 'before you start drinking illicit Butterbeers that your ghastly brother ferrets into the school.'

Albus had the sense not to complain, and pardoned himself from the throng of Gryffindors marching up the stairs. He followed in Lubo's footsteps as she led him to the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom. As he went, he realized that one of the uppermost of his thoughts was the mystery regarding his father. He recalled his discussion with Gaunt earlier in the week: they had to keep their investigation secret until they were better informed. Lubo could not find out what Albus knew, or suspected, about his father. And he was about to be Legilimensed by her! Albus realized at once that he had to seek an outlet.

'Mother, can we please postpone the lesson for a time?' Albus asked.

'I beg your pardon?' Lubo said. 'Son, Saturday afternoons are routinely set aside for Occlumency. You are well aware of this.'

'Yes, but I have just engaged in a Quidditch match,' Albus said, searching quickly through his head for excuses. 'I was knocked on the head by Richard's bat, I flew in dizzying spirals for several minutes, I have a headache, and I am distracted by our win. I will not be able to perform well.'

Lubo looked at Albus with a perceptive gaze. The way her white hair glowed made Albus slightly afraid of her, standing there in the dark corridor. Now that winter was approaching, the corridors of Hogwarts seemed a few shades darker than they did in summer.

'You are trying to hide something from me, I sense,' Lubo said. 'I scratched the surface of your mind and caught a glimpse of a beautiful girl. Very well, I will spare you the intrusion into your mind.'

Albus blushed fiercely. He did not realize that his sudden attraction to the Gryffindor Chaser was so close to the surface in his thoughts.

'But we are having a lesson all the same,' Lubo continued. 'We shall work on Legilimency instead. You can practice entering my mind.'

Albus was relieved all the same. The Order's investigation into the death of Nibs and Archaeon Dumbledore's peculiar behaviour was kept hidden from Lubo Dumbledore, and he spent an enjoyable afternoon trying to Legilimens his mother. She kept him shielded from her thoughts for most of the afternoon, but Albus had a few moments of triumph when he caught glimpses of her thoughts. Eventually he was rewarded with twenty points for Gryffindor and told to go and join his house celebrations.

By the time Albus returned to Gryffindor Tower, Aberforth and Fawkes had returned from Hogsmeade with a whole barrel of Butterbeer and a crate of Firewhiskies. Albus was soon embroiled in the midst of the celebrations, trying to sound impressive within earshot of Alaria McMarsh as he recounted his flying duel with John Gaunt to whoever cared to listen. Unfortunately McMarsh was too busy giggling at everything Thomas Jones was saying. The evening disintegrated into a loud and raucous party as the Butterbeer overflowed in everyone's veins. It was eventually broken up by Professor Rolleston at midnight, and a very haggard and tipsy bunch of Gryffindor third year boys staggered up the stairwell to their dormitory. Albus was probably asleep before his head hit the pillow. It had been a famous day in Gryffindor's Quidditch history: the day Slytherin caught the Snitch but lost the game all the same.


	11. The Doom of Divination

Albus Dumbledore and the Wizard's Ruse

Book Three of the _Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts _Series

Disclaimer: this is a work of fan fiction based on the worlds created by JK Rowling. The story is written for entertainment and not for profit.

Author's Note: Sorry about the delay between updates. I'm usually much more regular than this but I have been moving house and as such have not had time for anything. As for that reviewer who pointed out that Dumbledore said he never did Divination, here is your answer.

* * *

"Sometimes its best not to know what awaits you."

Chapter 11 – The Doom of Divination

If Albus thought that he was going to float on cloud nine for several days in the wake Gryffindor's triumph over Slytherin at Quidditch, he was sadly mistaken. The Tuesday after the match was All Hallow's Eve, the 31st of October, and Professor Cassandra Trelawney indicated to her Divination class that they would be having a lesson starting at eleven o'clock that night. Quite what the batty old Seer was up to, the Gryffindors did not know. But the prospect of a thrilling midnight adventure on Halloween was too much to resist and nobody in the class offered up any protests.

Divination was shared by the Slytherin and Gryffindor third years, which added to the tension of the occasion. As the boys and girls trooped up the long stairwell of the North Tower, shoulders barged into one another and insults were exchanged. The Slytherins were not easily going to forget the injustice of losing to Gryffindor despite capturing the Snitch.

'Silence, if you will, silence.' The voice of Professor Trelawney wafted down the stairwell. Albus craned his neck up and saw the rampant red hair and shoulder-length ear-rings of the renowned Seer. He had long thought of Divination as a woolly discipline, and the bizarre appearance of the teacher didn't improve the impression he had of it. His father had; nevertheless, told him to take it, so here he was. The Gryffindors and Slytherins competed with one another to enter the Divination room. It had a different layout tonight: Professor Trelawney had arranged her poof chairs in a wide circle around a central ring of rocks. Black cloths were draped over the chairs, the walls and from the ceiling. Long, tapered black candles burned with purple-blue flames. The entire room smelled of a strange scent that nobody could quite place. The class did not need Professor Trelawney to tell them to be quiet once they were through the door. The room had an atmosphere of premonition about it, and nobody wanted to be the first to break the silence. Everyone took a seat around the circle, and Professor Trelawney shut the door behind them, turned a key and locked it.

'Greetings to you on All Hallow's Eve,' Professor Trelawney said. She had a mysterious quality to her voice tonight, as though speaking from a different plane to normal human beings. 'I have chosen this night to reveal your respective dooms or destinies.'

A slight murmur went up around the circle. This was a highly unnatural practice and the goosebumps on Albus' skin suggested to him that Dark Magic would be in force tonight. He still hadn't placed Professor Trelawney's motivation for doing this. A thought crossed his mind: _what if the person controlling/imitating my father has latched on to Professor Trelawney?_ He tried to discard the thought but it hung around like a stench in the room for several minutes afterward.

'May I ask a question, please?' said Albus. Professor Trelawney gave a half-frown but nodded. 'Why are you showing us our doom or destiny? Is it not better to approach life without knowing the future?'

'One does not seek out the future,' Professor Trelawney said in her mystical voice. 'The future seeks one out. In one of my visions I saw all of us here on this night and my purpose was revealed to me.'

'We are having this lesson because you had a dream?' Albus asked, incredulous.

'Do not question the Inner Eye of a Seer,' Professor Trelawney said, drawing herself up to her greatest height and radiating some degree of power. Albus was not overawed by her, but knew better than to argue further. Professor Trelawney gave a haughty snort and said, 'very well then, Dumbledore, seeing as you seem not to believe as I do, you shall be the first. Come forth to the ring of fire.'

There was no ring of fire, only the circle of stones in the middle of the room. Albus approached uncertainly, not knowing quite what Professor Trelawney meant, until she cast a spell on the stones and a fire sprung up inside the ring. The flames were a mixture of orange, purple and blue, and Albus swore he could see his reflection in them.

'This is a powerful and complex enchantment,' Professor Trelawney said. She was addressing the entire class, even as Albus stood next to the dancing flames. 'I need complete silence and reverence from everyone in this room in order to proceed.'

Professor Trelawney waited until everyone was sitting stock still and trying not to breathe loudly. Albus looked around at the faces of his classmates, all of whom glowed like copper statues in the firelight. Professor Trelawney swept towards him like an owl, a deck of cards splayed out in her hands, face down.

'Pick a card, boy, pick a card,' she said rather excitedly, as though this were a sort of game to her. Albus duly selected one and turned it over. It was a beautifully painted card depicting a tall white tower in front of a dark cloudy backdrop. A single bolt of lightning arced down from the cloud and struck the tower. Like all magical pictures, the image was labile. The lightning would disappear and then reappear, continually striking the tower.

'What is the meaning of this?' Albus said.

'Be still, child,' Professor Trelawney said. She looked like an escapee from a muggle institution with the fire dancing in her eyes. 'This is the Lightning-struck Tower. It is a symbol of danger and even death. Yes, Dumbledore, either your doom or your destiny is aligned with danger and death.'

Albus felt like spurting out an insolent response, but held his tongue. _I could have told you that,_ he thought to himself. Everyone met death at the end of their life, obviously. Moreover, Albus knew that his future was sprinkled with danger. He only had to think about the current predicament involving his father for proof of that.

Professor Trelawney pushed her hand of cards under Albus' nose again, bidding he take another. He did so, and this time the depiction was of the moon. It seemed innocuous enough, but dark shadows were moving on the ground below the moon. They were indistinct, but in the half-light of the fire Albus would have said they looked like little man-like figures running around. Professor Trelawney seemed clearly impressed by this.

'The Moon, my child,' she said. 'And if my eyes do not deceive me, this card confirms that your destiny involves werewolves. Perhaps you are to become one; otherwise, one will have a role to play in your demise.'

This time Albus could not help but deliver a snort of derision. He, Albus Dumbledore, die because of a werewolf? Even more ludicrous than that was the suggestion that he might one day become one.

'I do not think that…' Albus began, but Professor Trelawney shushed him.

'Silence, child,' she said. 'Take the third card, the third card. It is the vital one, the one we have not yet seen, the one with the answers to all mysteries.'

Even Albus in his cynicism could not resist the magic behind Professor Trelawney's voice and conviction. He took a third card from the deck and turned it over. It was a man on horseback holding aloft a cup.

'The Prince of Cups,' Professor Trelawney gasped. 'Yes, yes, this makes more sense now. I see your future, child. Your destiny is to go on a grail quest, as so many muggles and wizards have done before. You will seek out the Deathly Hallows and on your quest you will encounter werewolves and much danger, even death.'

Albus had to admit, the Seer's predictions had made him curious. But he was sensible enough to realize that, even if these predictions were true, they were hardly helpful. He could not spend the rest of his life on the lookout for this werewolf, if it even was a werewolf that the Moon card had resembled. Albus tried to hand the cards back to Professor Trelawney and return to his seat, but she declined.

'Wait, child,' Professor Trelawney said. 'We are not yet finished. Retain the cards, for when you look into the ring of fire you need the magic of those three cards to empower your vision.'

'What do you mean by that?' Albus said.

'You are to look into the fire whilst holding the cards,' Professor Trelawney said. 'I will cast a spell upon you, and you will enter into the fire and the spirit realm within. Upon your return you can enlighten us all with your findings.'

'What can I expect to see?'

'Why, your future, of course,' Professor Trelawney said. 'Now step toward the flames and keep those cards tightly in your hands.'

Albus did as he was instructed. He looked at Mars moments before Professor Trelawney cast the spell on him. The two friends exchanged nervous glances, but Albus drew strength from his friend's concern. This could not be too bad, he thought to himself. _But what if the person controlling your father is controlling her?_ Albus shuddered. He hoped not.

'_Introitus effluvium,'_ encanted Professor Trelawney. Albus felt a warm sensation enfold him, as though he had been completely wrapped in blankets. An irresistible pull drew him into the flames. He flinched, half expecting to be burned, but nothing of the sort happened. Instead, Albus found himself in a completely different place.

He was standing on the top of a tower with battlements around three sides and a closed door that presumably led to a stairwell on the fourth. Two broomsticks leaned against one of the battlements. High in the air above the tower hung a shimmering green skull with a snake for a tongue. This grotesque image cast a foul and frightful light on the scene that Albus was witnessing. A row of four people in black robes stood alongside a fifth, younger boy with white hair and a pale face who was dressed in what appeared to be Hogwarts robes. Except that these robes looked quite unlike those Albus was used to wearing. He quickly realized that he was somewhere deep into the future, and that this must be the top of one of Hogwarts' towers. Albus looked down briefly and saw that he was invisible. He was only experiencing this as a vision, he realized. He had not actually been transported to the future.

Albus heard heavy breathing somewhere to the left. He turned and saw an old man leaning wearily against the battlements. The man had a long white beard, blue eyes, half-moon glasses and a face that looked very much like the portrait of Albion Dumbledore. But what truly gave away the man's identity was his crooked nose. Albus realized that he was looking at the Albus Dumbledore of the future: a much older, taller Dumbledore. To his dismay he noticed that his future self had a crippled, black hand and looked utterly defenseless against this wall of five intruders. His wand was nowhere to be seen. Albus felt the urge to pull his wand out of his pocket and give it to his older self, but the rules of the vision he was in prevented him from doing so. He discovered that he could neither move nor make a sound. He was only a witness to this scene.

'Now Draco, quickly!' said a man with a brutal face.

The blonde boy lifted up his wand but seemed unable to do anything. His hand was shaking and he looked terrified out of his wits. Albus tried to place the boy's face. It looked familiar, as though he saw a similar face almost every day, but he could not figure it out.

'I'll do it,' snarled a hulking figure, moving forward with his hands outstretched and teeth bared. Albus realized that this was the werewolf Professor Trelawney had spoken of. He winced. Without a wand, his older self would surely be eaten by this savage beast.

'I said no,' the man with the brutal face insisted. He cast a spell at his comrade that sent the werewolf crashing into the ramparts. The werewolf man looked ready to kill the man with the angry face, but Albus sensed that the five people standing there were bound by some common, greater purpose. They were here to kill _him,_ his future self, tonight. He just wished his older self would use some wand-less magic and save himself! Surely after the life that Albus hoped to lead in the future, he would have become a great and powerful wizard? Instead, Albus saw a tired old man with a withered hand who looked more like a muggle than a wizard.

'Draco, do it, or stand aside so one of us…' the woman said in a high-pitched voice, but she was interrupted by the door opening.

In the middle of the doorway stood a man that looked vaguely like an older version of Swarbrick Prince. He had long, oily black hair and a hooked nose, a sallow face and a mean expression.

'We've got a problem, Snape,' said the fourth person in black. 'The boy doesn't seem able…'

Then a sound came that scared Albus half to death. His older self uttered a single word, but it sounded so feeble and pathetic that Albus wondered if this really was his future person.

'Severus…'

The man called Snape pushed the other people aside and strode forward to face Albus' older person. He looked like all the Furies. It was as though a lifetime of hatred was being expressed on his face at that moment.

'Severus… please…' whimpered Albus' older self.

'_Avada Kedavra,'_ said the man called Snape.

As instantly as horror and revulsion struck Albus in the chest, he was whisked away by the vision. He did not see what happened to his older self, but knew that it could only mean one thing: a man called Severus Snape who looked like a relative of Swarbrick Prince was going to murder him on top of one of Hogwart's towers many years into the future, witnessed by four people and a werewolf underneath the green image of a skull and a snake.

Albus tumbled out of the flames and onto the floor of the Divination classroom. He looked up wildly, only half seeing the look of anticipation on Professor Trelawney's face and the curiosity written on the faces of his classmates. Albus let out one long, shrill scream and bolted for the door. He blasted the lock open with his wand and fled down the stairwell before Professor Trelawney could stop him. Her voice echoed down after him, but the blood pounding in his ears made him deaf to her protestations.

Albus ran, and ran, and ran. He did not know where he was running to, but still he ran. He ran almost blindly, stumbling several times on the cobbled floors of Hogwarts' corridors, but this did not stop him. He only wanted to get as far away from the vision, as far away from _Hogwarts_, as was humanly possible. If it were not for the anti-disapparation charms on the school, Albus would have apparated to the East Indies and sought comfort in his father's arms, regardless of what was wrong with Archaeon.

As it was, Albus ran straight into his mother. He bounced off her aura and landed on his rear end. She was standing in a long white night-dress, but still glowed as though sunlight was pouring through the windows, even though it was midnight.

'The portraits told me you were running unchecked through the halls of Hogwarts,' Lubo said. 'Come, what is the meaning of this?'

'I'm … I'm going to be murdered on …' Albus could not complete a full sentence. He staggered to his feet and ran off again, this time in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. He expected Lubo to follow him but was surprised when she did not. Instead, he felt the tickling of Legilimency as she probed the surface of his mind. Albus rounded a corner and the feeling stopped, but he knew that his mother would know what he had seen.

Albus galloped back to Gryffindor Tower and made straight for his bed. He tore his bed-curtains shut behind him and curled in a terrified ball underneath his blanket. The slightest sound made his heart beat like an African drum, and even the quiet chatter of his friends when they made their entry into the dormitory an hour later gave him chills. They were clearly talking about him, but none had the willpower to open Albus' curtains and talk to him. Not that he wanted them to. No, Albus felt like a pall of evil had settled on him. He was a marked man: a man destined to die by murder in this very place, the supposedly free and safe school of Hogwarts. Albus did not sleep a wink all night, or for the next couple of nights for that matter.

* * *

To the members of the Order of Explorers, Adventures and Investigative Magical Apprentices, it seemed like their leader was a living, walking ghost in the following weeks. It went without saying that the adventure to Egypt was postponed following Albus' ordeal in the Divination classroom. Those who had been present were able to recount the details to other members of the Order, but nobody truly knew the reason for Albus' strange behaviour. A few of his friends, namely Mars, Maggie and Edward, continued to accompany him to and from classes. But Albus said little, and reacted even less when spoken to, that his friends began to wonder if he had not turned into an Inferi.

The only proactive thing Albus did in the subsequent weeks was to approach Professor Rolleston after Charms class.

'I wish to discontinue Divination,' Albus said in a monotonous voice. 'I have no wish to pursue that subject further. Please permit me to transfer to Ancient Runes.'

Professor Rolleston tried to extract more of an explanation out of his prize student, but none was forthcoming. What he did notice, as did all the other teachers, was that Albus was completely out of sorts in the classroom. He did not volunteer answers, and when asked would often make mistakes. His wandwork was out of sorts and he seemed perpetually distracted. Albus did not even show up for Quidditch practices, prompting Thomas Jones to demote him to the bench in favour of young Jeremiah Potter. When Albus failed to present for an Order meeting, John Gaunt tried to convince everyone else to elect him as the new leader. The bid was overturned by Albus' loyal friends. Perhaps the most dreadful sign of Albus' deterioration was when he batted Fawkes away when the phoenix tried to rest on his shoulders and cheer him up with song.

Regardless, it was clear to all who knew Albus or had anything to do with him that the very life seemed to have gone out of him. Too many people had Albus' interests at heart to let this go on for very much longer, so by mid-November he was called to a meeting in the Headmistress' office attended by Lubo, Professor Rolleston and Professor Bones, the Deputy Headmaster.

'Albus Dumbledore,' Professor Prewett began, once Albus had been made to take a seat in front of a semi-circle of chairs in which sat the four staff members. 'I have heard numerous reports that you have been neglecting your studies, failing to complete your homework, making rudimentary mistakes far beneath your usual standard, and not attending your extracurricular activities. Do you deny this?'

'No, Professor,' Albus said without a trace of emotion. He was staring at the floor and did not even look up when spoken to.

'I have also ascertained that this slide in your usual standards was precipitated by a Divination lesson undertaken on All Hallow's Eve, is that correct?'

Albus' response was non-committal. He merely shrugged.

'Your mother was able to determine, by Legilimency and by a discussion with Professor Trelawney, that you experienced a vision of your death, is that correct?'

Albus gave the faintest of nods.

'Albus,' Professor Prewett said in a surprisingly soft voice, 'this cannot continue. Unless you tell us what you saw, and why it has affected you so, things will only get worse. We are not here to condemn you, but to help you.'

'Please, Albus,' Lubo added. 'Listen to Professor Prewett, and listen to me. I am dreadfully concerned about you: we all are. Tell us what is the matter and we will make it right.'

'You cannot make it right,' Albus said forcefully. 'I saw it with my own eyes. I am to die at the hands of a man called Severus Snape on a tower here at Hogwarts when I am an old man. I am going to be weak, useless and defenseless against a cowardly murderer. Clearly I have no future as a great wizard. I will be an old man with a withered hand and no wandless magic to speak of. What good is there living if my future is such.'

It was more words put together than Albus had managed in two weeks of conversations, and it also expressed for the first time the feelings that had been blighting Albus' thoughts. He could not rid himself of the image of him as an old man with a withered hand and seemingly no power. If that was his future, he could hardly bring himself to get out of bed each day, let alone go about living his life.

'Albus: listen very carefully to me now,' said Professor Bones. The Transfiguration teacher, who had a lion for an Animagus, came over and crouched beside Albus' chair. His glowing locks of hair and strong face conveyed strength, and Albus felt compelled to listen to the man. Professor Bones said, 'Divination is an incomplete art, and one that must be read with caution. Even visions, however clear they may seem, may be distorted and inaccurate.'

'I know what I saw,' Albus said through gritted teeth.

'I do not doubt you,' Professor Bones said. 'But I am advising caution. Do not assume the veracity of that vision. For all you know, it may be completely inaccurate.'

'But what if it is true?' Albus said, half whimpering.

'And if it were?' Lubo responded with her own question. 'Albus, you only caught a glimpse of that future. You do not know what your future self experienced before his death. You cannot know how he obtained those injuries or came to be defenseless against his enemies. You may yet become the greatest wizard in the entire world, or not at all. Do not judge your entire life on an image that lasted a minute or less.'

Albus was silent as he began to be swayed by the adult's arguments.

'I would also like to add,' Professor Rolleston said, 'that no amount of sulking or protesting against the world can change the future. Whether or not it is your doom to die by murder is beside the point. At some stage, we all die. If we spend our entire lives waiting for that day, then why bother living at all? It is time that you started to live again, and put that dreadful vision out of mind.'

'Excellent sentiments,' Professor Prewett said. 'And I would also like to caution you, Dumbledore, to guard against complacency. Do not assume that vision was the truth. No person is immortal simply because they believe that their death is fixed in time. The future is completely malleable to change.'

'You mean,' Albus said, 'I could find Severus Snape, whoever he is, and try to win him over so that he does not kill me?'

'In a manner of speaking, yes,' Lubo replied. 'But by the look of him, he was very much younger than you and I doubt he is even alive at this time.'

'This is all conjecture,' Professor Bones said. 'Albus, the point that we are trying to make is that you must get back to reality. Abandon these irrational fears of death and start making the most of this present life. If you do not, you risk losing your friends, failing to achieve your best in school, and worse. If you carry on like this, then I can accurately predict that you _will_ be a failure in life. Do you want that?'

'No, sir,' Albus said, feeling rather small.

'Good,' Professor Bones said. 'I expect you to be up to your normal standards in our next Transfiguration class.'

'And I expect the same in all facets of your life,' Professor Prewett added. 'We all understand that you have been through an ordeal, but it is time to put it behind you.'

'Yes, Professor,' Albus said. He looked around at the earnest faces of the four adults, particularly his mother's. 'I promise to start trying again.'

'You are excused,' Professor Prewett said.

Albus got a hug from his mother and was permitted to leave the Headmistress' office. He made his way back to Gryffindor Tower feeling lighter than he had in weeks. He made two silent pledges to himself. The first was to put all thoughts of the vision out of his head and start behaving like the normal Albus Dumbledore. The second was to remember the name Severus Snape, and one day, do whatever was in his power to bring that man over to his way of thinking. Then, and only then, Albus thought he could prevent himself the disgrace of dying by the _Avada Kedavra._


	12. The Mysterious Plot

Albus Dumbledore and the Wizard's Ruse

Book Three of the _Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts _Series

Disclaimer: this is a work of fan fiction based on the worlds created by JK Rowling. The story is written for entertainment and not for profit.

Author's Note: I would like to apologize a thousand times over for taking 2 months to update. I have, as mentioned before, been writing the first draft of my own kid's book and simply haven't had the time to think about fan fiction. Please be warned that I will be writing a second draft soon and there will be more delays with this fan fiction. Not that it matters that much – Albus Dumbledore isn't going anywhere.

* * *

"If an eavesdropper misses but one word, confusion will arise."

Chapter 12 – The Mysterious Plot

The Sunday before Christmas 1854 encompassed another visit to Hogsmeade, the first opportunity the Order of Explorers, Adventurers and Investigative Magical Apprentices would have to sneak off to Imhotep's Crypt and investigate whether or not his magical possessions had been tampered with. This was because Albus had finally regained his sense of purpose and enthusiasm, after the dreadful vision he'd seen in his final Divination lesson at Hallowe'en. It had taken him several weeks, but he was back to his usual cheerful self and running lively, interesting Order meetings.

'Let me outline the plan,' Albus was busy saying to the Order on the Sunday prior to the Hogsmeade visit. They were all seated on pouffes and chintz armchairs inside the Room of Requirement. A layer of snow sat on the windowsill, but a fire raged in the fireplace to keep them all warm. 'Fawkes can't take all of us to Egypt on his tail in one go. He also can't do more than one or two trips; otherwise, it would take too long for us to get back to Hogsmeade if a teacher suddenly shows up and wonders where we all are. So, for this adventure, Fawkes will take two groups of five. The others are to keep a watchful eye for any teachers outside the Hog's Head. If a teacher comes around looking suspicious, the rest of you are to use Fawkes to summon us back. Does that sound achievable?'

'Yes, but we want to know who gets to go and who has to stay,' said Emily Marchbanks.

'Is it not obvious?' said John Gaunt carelessly. 'We senior students shall go.'

'No it is certainly not obvious,' Emily snapped, but Albus held up his hands to call for silence.

'I have already made it clear that you shall all get the opportunity to go on an adventure this year,' Albus said. 'Do not turn this into another quarrel, else I shall go alone. Now: Gregory, Alan, Mathilda and Jeremiah, you are second and first years, so you won't be going to Hogsmeade anyway. That leaves eighteen of us: ten to go, eight to keep watch at the Hog's Head.'

'Just tell us who are going and who are staying,' said Mars irritably. 'I cannot bear waiting anymore.'

'Very well,' said Albus, a twinkle in his blue eyes. 'The first group on Fawkes' tail feathers will be Jenning, John, Ruth, Aberforth and I. The second group shall comprise of Mars, Davey, Emily, Maggie and Swarbrick.'

Immediate protestations rose on the lips of Edward and Elizabeth, the two Gryffindors to have been left out, the Ravenclaw Alice Shaftesbury, and the Hufflepuffs Adam, Edith, Keiron, Mary and Mark.

'Be still, the lot of you,' John Gaunt said imperiously. 'Have you, or have you not, elected Albus Dumbledore as the Order's leader? Then accept his rulings without complaint.'

Albus very nearly smiled. Far from being a threat to his leadership, Gaunt had actually been rather supportive of late. He'd taken a shine to being an Order member, and frequently stopped Albus in the corridor with the latest idea he'd thought of to help in the solving of their mystery. Some of his friends in Gryffindor didn't like it, but Albus saw it as a breakthrough in Inter-House relations.

'So what do those of us who stay behind do again?' asked Keiron Bletchley-Adams, who was trying his best not to look sore at being left out.

'Keep an eye out for teachers,' said Albus. 'I doubt they will be concerned by our absence, given the many hundreds of students who will be strolling around Hogsmeade. If it appears; however, that the time has arrived for everyone to return to Hogwarts, then we ought to be alerted. Likewise, if a teacher asks where one of us is, feign innocence and call us using Fawkes.'

'We cannot be too clear on this,' said Gaunt seriously. 'If we are caught travelling to Egypt and back on a phoenix, we all face expulsion.'

Suddenly those who were being left out looked rather happier, and those who'd been thrilled by their inclusion had the smugness wiped from their faces.

* * *

Next Sunday dawned bright and clear, with a fresh dumping of snow having fallen overnight. As the children donned their heaviest overcoats and started the walk across the grounds to the gates, they took in the wonder of the scene around them. Hogwarts' lawns were coated with a perfect layer of snow. The trees of the Forbidden Forest were capped with white, like a mountain range, and even the great castle rearing up against the pale blue sky looked white. It was beautiful, but the eyes began to water before long if one stared too hard at the landscape.

As per Gaunt's suggestion, the Order made their way to Hogsmeade in dribs and drabs, rather than huddling together. With Professors Prewett and Dumbledore accompanying them that day, it wouldn't have been sensible for the group to travel together. They would have looked suspicious. The plan was to sidle up to the Hog's Head in twos and threes, until everyone was in attendance. Albus would then summon Fawkes and the adventure could begin.

Albus walked alongside Mars, their outward appearance being two good friends merely enjoying the morning stroll. Mars; however, was whispering under his breath.

'I got a letter back from my parents today about Metamorphmagi in Britain,' Mars breathed.

'What did they say?' asked Albus, his ears perked up.

'Not a great deal,' said Mars dully. 'They did not think I necessarily needed to know such things. My father did say; however, that there are only two or three of them in the land.'

'And…?'

'He did not mention any first names, but he did mention surnames: Tonks, Zabini and Noble.'

'Oh,' said Albus in a disappointed voice. He'd rather hoped to hear the name Black or Nigellus spoken, for that would have been a helpful clue in solving the mystery.

'He did mention the Christmas holidays, though,' said Mars, sounding gloomy.

'And…?'

'I'm to go home,' said Mars miserably. 'My parents have prohibited me from visiting anyone, lest I sneak off to see you.'

'Oh,' said Albus. He was sombre for a while, until he had an idea. 'Do not be despondent, Mars! Consider for a moment what we are about to do?'

'And what's that?'

'Fly to Egypt on Fawkes' tail feathers,' Albus said happily. 'I shall simply send Fawkes to your house every day to fetch you.'

'That is a brilliant plan,' Mars admitted. 'I will have to play a dangerous game, mind. If my parents find me vanished…'

'We will think of something,' said Albus. 'For now, let's concentrate on today's adventure. I think I see the village ahead.'

The eighteen members of the Order took their time arriving at the Hog's Head. Last to arrive, as usual, were Aberforth and Ruth, both of whom had chocolate on their lips and dreamy expressions on their faces. Albus summoned them to the darkest, dankest corner of the pub, where the sudden disappearance of five people at a time was unlikely to be noticed. The Hog's Head was busy today, the mood festive, and nobody paid the Order any attention.

'Right,' Albus said promptly. 'We shall take our turns on Fawkes' tail feathers, five at a time. The eight of you…' he singled out Keiron, Adam, Edith, Mark, Mary, Alice, Edward and Elizabeth, '…stay here. Buy yourselves some Butterbeers and have a good time, if you will. We shall surely tell you everything that happened on our adventure when we return.'

Albus called softly for Fawkes. The gloriously plumed phoenix appeared without show, and Albus, John Gaunt, Ruth, Aberforth and Jenning each took hold of one of its feathers.

'Into Imhotep's Crypt, please,' Albus said. The five vanished with a quiet pop.

They appeared in a dark hall with a flash of flame. Fawkes vanished again, leaving them all in ominous darkness. Moments later, Fawkes returned with Mars, Davey, Emily, Maggie and Swarbrick in tow.

'Lumos,' Albus, Gaunt and Jenning muttered at the same time. The tips of their wands lit up ten pale, slightly apprehensive faces.

'Albus, where are we?' Emily asked nervously.

'I expect we are in Imhotep's Crypt,' Albus said. 'There are no torches burning, so we shall have to use our wands to see.'

All ten lit up their wands and pointed them around. They quickly discovered that they were standing at the foot of a massive statue, of a great Egyptian wizard with terrifying eyes and a giant staff of stone in his hand.

'Imhotep,' said Mars, shivering. Albus' fair-haired friend had been to Imhotep's Crypt with him once before, back in their first year. They'd been brought here by Fawkes, for a reason they hadn't understood at the time. It had become clear later on, when Professor Phineas Nigellus' plan to raise Imhotep from the dead had nearly come to fruition.

'This place gives me the chills,' said Maggie, drawing her coat closer around her. Even though they were in Egypt, it was still very cold in the chamber. They were several hundred feet below ground, by Albus' best guess.

'Remind us again, Albus,' said Gaunt. 'What, precisely, are we looking for?'

'When I was here with Mars, and then later with my father, Professors Fudge and Nigellus, there were four small crypts either side of a tunnel leading to a fifth, larger one where Imhotep's body lay. There were all manner of dark items in each of the crypts. We've come to see if anything has gone missing: anything that might be used to try and bring Imhotep back from the dead _again_.'

'Very well, show us the way,' said Gaunt.

Albus and Mars led the group along the corridor. Albus couldn't help shivering. The last time he'd been here, Professors Fudge and Nigellus had held him captive and his father had been under the influence of Veritaserum. The tunnel was lined by coffins, where mummies had once stood. These mummies had been brought to life as Inferi, living dead who would have served their reborn master had Imhotep not been destroyed by Fawkes' phoenix song.

They arrived at the first crypt, to their left. It was empty.

'Mars, can you remember what was in here?' Albus asked.

'Staffs, I think,' said Mars. 'There were hundreds of them.'

'Now I recall,' said Albus. 'Some grave robbers must have cleared this vault.'

'Are you certain?' Emily said, her voice trembling. 'What if Dark wizards intend using the staffs to bring him to life?'

'Professor Solstice already did that, in the Chamber of the Everlasting Flame,' said Albus, trying not to think about Victoria when he said it. 'That staff contained part of Imhotep's soul. I doubt he used any other staffs.'

They moved on to the next crypt. It too, was empty.

'There used to be vials of poisons, mummified asps and scarabs in here,' Mars said. 'Why is everything gone?'

'The asps and scarabs were brought to life by Professor Nigellus,' said Albus. 'As for the poisons, I do not know. Again, I have a feeling that nothing of value remained in this crypt for Dark wizards to take.'

'Except for poisons,' said Emily, a terrified note in her voice as if the entire world was now in danger of being poisoned by ancient Egyptian potions.

The next vault, which had once contained numerous black vases and containers, was also devoid of content. Albus had to confess, a tingle was running up his spine now.

'I remember having to carry a vase of Imhotep's dried, preserved blood from this room,' Albus said. 'What if what remained has now been taken?'

'I want to go back to Hogsmeade,' said Jenning. Aberforth and Ruth were holding hands rather tightly. Albus shone the light of his wand in the others' faces and saw that all but Gaunt looked terrified.

'We shall go at any moment,' Albus said. 'Let us look at the last two crypts, at the very least.'

The fourth crypt had been empty but for a skeleton on a plinth, one that appeared to have been in the midst of mummification when the tools had been left inside him. That skeleton was now gone, as were the tools. The final vault, a massive room with a tomb raised on a towering plinth, and walls covered in hieroglyphics where rivers ran with blood and eagle-headed monsters devoured baby children, was also empty. Albus could see the mangle of rocks where Imhotep's killing spell had shattered the wall, directly resulting in his broken nose. Other than that, nothing remained of the calamitous scene he'd been involved in at the start of his first year.

'There is nothing here,' said Gaunt simply. 'Either thieves have broken in and emptied the vaults of their contents, or our fears are correct: Dark wizards unknown have obtained Imhotep's possessions and are planning on using them for nefarious purposes.'

'Can we return to Hogsmeade now,' said Maggie plaintively. Davey, and Jenning were whimpering. Even Swarbrick looked paler than usual.

'Yes,' said Albus. 'Fawkes, bring us back.'

The handsome phoenix took Mars, Davey, Emily, Maggie and Swarbrick back first. Moments later he returned for the rest of them. With a light pop they were back in the Hog's Head.

'Boy, have we something to tell you,' said Edward Stephenson, his freckled face lit up with a wild enthusiasm Albus had not seen before. 'We just overheard a very suspicious conversation between two men in dark robes.'

'And we have our own worrisome findings to report,' said Albus. 'Come, let's all get Butterbeers before we talk. I am in need of warming up.'

A short while later, the Order gathered around a long table in the far corner of the Hog's Head, each holding a mug of steaming Butterbeer in their cold hands. The light of adventure had returned to their eyes. Now that they weren't inside the chilling black crypt of an ancient Dark Lord, people like Emily and Jenning seemed to be bubbling with the knowledge that they'd been on a grand adventure. The eight who had stayed behind urged Albus to tell them what he'd learned, so that they could share their own news.

Albus reported the vanishing of the crypt's contents and the likelihood that it was grave robbers.

'My father did remove the protective charms on the crypt once Imhotep was destroyed,' Albus said. 'He also said he was closing it for all time. This makes me think some Dark wizards have been in there, stealing the contents so that they can bring Imhotep back again.'

'They may not even have that in mind,' said Gaunt carefully. 'Perhaps their motives are different, though no less sinister.'

'What are you talking about?' asked Mars.

'Perhaps they intend unlocking the secrets of Imhotep's magic for their own use,' said Gaunt. 'Imhotep may be destroyed, for all we know. But his magic remains, and powerful would be the wizard who learns it.'

The others shuddered. Emily and Maggie threw Gaunt another disgusted look, as if appalled that he continued to show the ability to think like a Dark wizard.

'So, what did you overhear?' Albus asked Edward.

'Well, the eight of us were minding our business here in the corner,' Edward said, eyes bright with excitement. 'A pair of men in dark robes sat down at the nearest table and started muttering to one another. We might not have paid any attention, if we had not heard the word "Dumbledore".'

Albus and Aberforth leaned forward, listening very intently to the next part. Edward explained that they'd tried to eavesdrop as best as possible, but had only heard fragments of conversation. All eight contributed words they'd heard, so that Albus was able to determine that the conversation had gone something like this:

…_Dumbledore … useful information not forthcoming …the need to take further action …vast secrets contained there … challenge not beyond us …Minister not entirely cooperative …essential that we succeed … prize too great to fail …_

The Order sat in silence for some moments after this, drinking their Butterbeers and contemplating the growing mystery. At last, Albus spoke, his voice calm and confident but his insides wracked with turmoil.

'Let us examine our current situation,' Albus said. 'This is what we know: my family house elf is dead, the circumstances of which are unclear. My father, who ought to be in the East Indies on an archaeowizarding dig, has made some unusual and secretive trips to Hogwarts, trying to dig into my mind for memories about him. Imhotep's Crypt is empty. Someone has a plot underway involving a Minister and someone in my family; they are looking for "useful information" and are striving towards some great "prize". What we don't know is: who these people are, exactly what they are looking for, and how they are going about it. That leaves us in a predicament.'

'What are we going to do?' Mars asked. 'We cannot simply sit here and wait for terrible things to happen, as seems to be the likely outcome of all this.'

'We will not sit and wait,' said Albus. 'Here is my plan: over Christmas, all of you are to eavesdrop on your parents and anyone else you encounter. Maybe someone knows something about all these unusual events. When we return to Hogwarts, we shall attack the Room of Requirement with renewed purpose. It is a Room of Requirement, after all. It must have the answers we need, somewhere inside that library of magical books.'

* * *

Everyone seemed energized by Albus' plan, happy to have something mysterious and slightly naughty to do over the holidays. It was hardly likely that any of their parents had the first thing to do with this (except for Gaunt, if you were asking Emily and Maggie), but all the same, it was nice to feel like you were part of some great and complex mystery.

Albus, on the other hand, was again distracted by this new weight of worry on his shoulders. He could hardly bear the thought of Imhotep coming to life a third time, after he'd sacrificed so much to prevent the first two rebirths. The first time, his father had nearly died, his nose had been broken, and Fawkes had saved his life. The second time, Victoria had died (though not by Imhotep's hands, but by Grundelwald's), and Professor Solstice had been turned traitor by the power within Imhotep's staff.

What was going on? Hard as Albus puzzled over it in the coming days, he couldn't fathom the mystery. He hadn't heard from his father for a few months, which gave him hope that the previous lesson had been an isolated incident. But the fact remained; his father's behaviour back then had been most unusual. The more he thought about it, the more he began to think that it hadn't been his father. There was an impostor Archaeon Dumbledore about, a most unsettling thought. More unsettling was the idea that Imhotep's Crypt had been stripped of its dark contents. Where had it all gone? Who was in possession of it now? And what _would_ happen if Imhotep was reborn?

These worries caused Albus to make some uncharacteristic mistakes in class during the coming days, and he endured a terrible lesson in Occlumency with his mother. She obtained several of his thoughts about Imhotep, but fortunately she misconstrued these as bad dreams he'd been having.

'I did not realize you were still having nightmares about those events of your first year,' Lubo said to him after the disastrous lesson was over. Albus' brain felt like it had been prodded with a poker stick. 'I could give you a sleeping draught to allow you more peaceful dreams.'

'I am fine,' Albus lied. 'Can I depart now?'

In fact, Albus hadn't the slightest dash of festive spirit in his heart when he boarded the Hogwarts' Express back to Platform 9 and ¾ for the Christmas holidays. Too many strange happenings were afoot, and for a rare occasion he did not relish the thought of Christmas at home with his parents. One was his Defense against the Dark Arts teacher, the other was possibly a fraud masquerading as his real father. Albus did not hold any high hopes for a memorable Christmas this year.


	13. The Worst Christmas Ever

Albus Dumbledore and the Wizard's Ruse

Book Three of the _Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts _Series

Disclaimer: this is a work of fan fiction based on the worlds created by JK Rowling. The story is written for entertainment and not for profit.

Author's Note: Thanks for the two or three reviewers for the last chapter. I still feel guilty at having left you all in the lurch for so long, so hopefully this (relatively) swift update will give you greater confidence in me! Please keep the reviews coming – I base my motivation to write on my perception of how many people are interested in reading my stories. I must also make a factual comment related to canon. In book two I wrote about the Triwizard Tournament – someone pointed out that the Tournament hadn't been held for hundreds of years – in GOF Dumbledore actually states that the Tournament hadn't been held for over one hundred years. This means that my fan fiction complies with canon in a time sequence.

* * *

"Even the most joyous occasion can be rendered mirthless."

Chapter 13 – The Worst Christmas Ever

If Albus Dumbledore's expectations ahead of Christmas 1854 were low, the reality was much, much worse. He travelled back to Platform 9 and ¾ in dull spirits, while his friends upheld a more positive outlook in the cabin. William and Alabastor, who'd yet to join the Order and seemed to be growing apart from Albus' group of friends, chatted animatedly about their plans to build magically enhanced snow-forts at the Potter family mansion. Edward was excited to be returning to the muggle world for Christmas ("Muggles make so much more out of Christmas", he explained to a confused Mars). Mars was trying to put a positive spin on going home to his parents, in the hope that he could sneak a few visits to Albus' courtesy of Fawkes. Albus was the quietest of the five, his nose pressed against the window, lost in his thoughts.

Students poured out of the train on to Platform 9 and ¾. Hundreds of cheerful reunions took place between families and their children along the platform. Albus found Aberforth by the way his head moved with his characteristic lumbering gait. His older brother had just said farewell to Ruth Roberts and was unusually misty eyed. They were joined presently by their mother.

'I rather expected your father to be meeting us here,' Lubo said. She had a disconcerted look about her. Her eyes were scouring the platform, flickering to and fro in avid search of someone: presumably Archaeon.

'Father is never late for meeting us,' Albus said. A discomfited feeling flitted across his stomach. Had this anything to do with Archaeon's curious behaviour earlier in the year? Where was his father?

'He must have been delayed in the East Indies,' said Lubo, chewing on her thoughts. 'We shall have to return home ourselves. I will place Disillusionment Charms us and on our luggage, Hovering Charms on the latter, and we shall have to fly home on our broomsticks. Come on.'

The trio lifted into the air a few moments later, concealed by Lubo's spell. They could hear, but not see, their luggage whistling through the air behind them. Fortunately none had brought much with them; Christmas was a short holiday and they'd left most of their belongings at Hogwarts castle.

On the way to the Dumbledore mansion in Wales, Albus remembered that this would be his first Christmas without Nibs. The faithful house-elf had been in the family for more years than Albus had been alive, and now he was dead. Albus' spirits sagged even lower. If emotions carried weight, he thought, he doubted his Cleansweep Two would be able to keep him in the air.

They touched down on the front lawn of the Dumbledore mansion, snowy-white under last night's heavy dumping of snow. Their feet made crunching sounds as they walked towards the front door. Lubo remembered to undo the Disillusionment Charm as they dried their feet on the welcome mat.

'Now boys,' Lubo said sternly, although her eyes were soft, 'I will be expecting your assistance these holidays. We are going to have to make do without a house-elf for the time being. Your father refuses to appoint a new house-elf until he has returned permanently from the East Indies and has time to seek out a suitable replacement.'

Perhaps it was a marker of how miserable Albus felt and how glum Aberforth was that he'd left Ruth Roberts at Platform 9 and ¾ that neither boy complained. Lubo used her wand to open the front door. She presently dropped it in surprise. The boys dropped their broomsticks.

The entrance hall was a complete mess. The coat stand lay on its side. Picture frames hung at angles on the walls, their glass panes shattered. Many of the pictures were singed or ripped. The carpet looked as if gnomes had unearthed it with shovels and pick-axes. The wooden floorboards underneath had, in places, been uplifted. The crystal chandelier that normally hung overhead was shattered on the floor. The banisters of the staircase leading upstairs were broken, and the stairs themselves had caved in as though a giant had stomped up and down them a few times.

'Boys, you wait here,' Lubo began, 'a powerful witch or wiz…'

But it was too late. Albus instinctively disapparated to his bedroom. His worst fears were immediately confirmed; his room was in ruins. The windows had been blown out, allowing a heavy snowfall to accumulate on his floor. His bunk bed had collapsed on itself. His chest of drawers lay on its side, the contents strewn the length and breadth of his room. His beloved maps, diagrams and pictures had been ripped from the walls. The carpet here had also been uplifted, although the floorboards were still intact.

Fawkes appeared on his shoulder. The handsome bird gave a low chirp as if to say that he was as surprised as Albus was.

'Albus?!' Lubo cried. She entered the room, having apparently apparated upstairs herself. She stopped when she saw what had happened here, putting a slender hand over her mouth to withhold a gasp. 'Oh: my son! They have put our home to waste. No corner is untouched!'

'You do not mean every room?' Albus said.

'Yes, every room,' Lubo confirmed. She leaned against the doorframe, looking very pale indeed. 'Not a book lies unopened; not a carpet untouched; not a picture untainted. They have put us to the sword.'

'Who are they?' Albus wondered out loud. There was a hard note in his voice, an anger he'd not heard himself express before. He could almost feel heat radiating from his skin. 'And how could anyone get into our home? I thought father put protective spells on our home?'

'He did,' Lubo said. 'No spell is unbreakable; however. It would seem that wizards or witches of some repute have found a way past Archaeon's best defenses. I am at a loss to explain it.'

'Where _is_ father?' Albus demanded. 'We need him here at once.'

'I have sent word to him,' Lubo said. 'With some fortune he will be here soon and we can take stock of the situation in a more composed frame of mind.'

The three Dumbledores gathered downstairs again and waited for the fourth. It took an hour, but eventually Archaeon apparated on the front door step. It took a few moments for the realization to set in that their home had been vandalized, before he stepped inside, a confounded and somewhat angry look on his face.

'Oh, Archaeon,' Lubo cried. She buried her face in his beard. He stroked her back gently, looking upon the tattered remnants of their entrance hall with burning eyes.

'How is this possible?' Archaeon said. 'Who could have jinxed their way past my defenses? These have been nigh-impenetrable ever since I placed them!'

While Archaeon patted the inconsolable Lubo on the back and Aberforth stared dumbly at the carnage around them, Albus was scrutinizing his father. He was trying to determine whether this actually was Archaeon Nobilo Dumbledore standing in their house. The man was wearing a long blue robe, had the same chestnut red beard, worn face and blue eyes. He even carried the correct wand in his knobbed hand. But _something_, an ever so slight something, was off about him. Albus didn't think that he could sense the same aura that was ever present when Archaeon Dumbledore was in the room. For all Albus' suspicions; however, there was no reliable evidence to suggest that this was an impostor. He certainly looked a lot more composed and unruffled than the man who'd given Albus the strange lessons at Hogwarts a few months back.

Albus shook himself. He was being unnecessarily paranoid in a situation that required logic and reasoning. He took it upon himself to address the problem at hand.

'Father, should I send Fawkes to the Ministry?' Albus asked.

'Whatever for?' Archaeon said sharply.

'To obtain help, naturally,' said Albus.

'We have no need for help,' Archaeon snapped. 'I rather think the Ministry would be unhelpful in this present circumstance in which we find ourselves. The culprit could even be from within their ranks; if you remember the suspicions I conferred to you during last year?'

Albus clearly remembered Archaeon's suspicions that the wealth of the Black family had corrupted the motives of some of the Ministry's highest-ranking officials. He immediately relaxed. Someone who was impersonating Albus' father wouldn't remember that conversation, would they?

'Then what are we to do?' Albus asked.

'You boys will commence the restoration process,' Archaeon said, to Albus' great disappointment.

'Ought we not to be tracking down the intruder?' Albus said.

'Yes, can we not rather do that, father?' Aberforth added. The spark of adventure had entered his blood, too, now that he was a member of Albus' Order.

'I have given my instructions,' Archaeon said simply. 'The pair of you will clean up the house. Your mother will need your assistance. I will, in the meantime, place new defensive charms around our house.'

'And what of the intruders?' Albus said hotly. He was silently furious that he wasn't able to personally hunt down the vagabonds who'd dared do this to his family's home.

'Do not worry about them,' Archaeon said. There was a hardened expression in his eyes. 'I will deal with the issue as I see fit. This is not a matter for children. Did I not tell you that you need to keep your nose out of trouble this year? You have nearly seen death twice: I will not have it again.'

Albus had to confess he'd engendered a habit of getting himself into dangerous situations. He didn't try to push the issue with his father any longer. Archaeon did not look in any sort of mood to be trifled with, and with good reason. Albus and Aberforth gave one another baleful looks, before setting off to different parts of the house to begin the long and tiresome process of restoring order where there was none.

The first thing Albus did was send Fawkes to Mars McGonagal's house with the news that any Christmas visit was off the cards. He told the phoenix to explain what had happened, and offer his profuse apologies. Albus knew that Mars would be bitterly disappointed, but that was nothing on what he felt at that moment.

The two days prior to Christmas and Christmas Day itself were all spent repairing the damage to the Dumbledore mansion. Lubo had to teach Aberforth and Albus a number of new spells, including charms to magically restore splintered fragments of wood, shattered chandeliers, ripped carpets, torn wallpaper, and ornaments that had been broken into a thousand pieces. Some things; however, could not be fixed. Albus' collection of maps and diagrams had been so badly damaged by the ransackers and the snow through the window that he had to toss most of them away. Some of Lubo's favourite magical objects were damaged beyond repair; Archaeon simply vanished the majority of the contents of his study, citing that too much damage had been done. Aberforth was grumpy with everyone, which Albus learned had to do with the irreparable harm done to a photo of Ruth Roberts. When Albus applied logic to it, he wondered how Aberforth could have obtained a photo of the girl to keep in the house when they'd only been boyfriend and girlfriend this term. Presumably Aberforth had secretly taken one last year; perhaps at the same time that he'd kidnapped her from Ravenclaw's common room.

If Christmas Day was bad enough, having to clean up an almighty mess, it managed to get worse somehow at dinner. Lubo managed to conjure a roast turkey and some plum pudding, a hearty enough fare for an ordinary meal, but a very poor assortment for a Christmas meal. Albus actually wished himself back at Hogwarts, knowing that the house-elves there would have whipped up at least six courses and three helpings of dessert. But that was not the least of his concerns: presently, his mother and father had an almighty row: the first he'd ever seen them have.

'Is that all you could conjure,' Archaeon said disdainfully from the head of the table. 'Our home is ransacked, and we ask for one slice of cheer in this cursed holiday, yet you cannot provide a feast of some proportion?'

'Our house-elf is dead,' Lubo snapped in reply, 'if you had not already noticed. Furthermore, I have been toiling for three days to get this house in order. Where have you been? You come and go as you please, without so much as lifting a wand to help us!'

'I beg your pardon?' Archaeon yelled. His face was turning unnaturally purple. 'I have been doing everything in my power to track down the vermin culprits who did this! I have not had the time to deal with broken banisters and fallen pictures, if you please!'

'This would not have been a problem if you had not put adequate protection around our home,' Lubo said, a petulant note in her voice that made her sound more like a schoolgirl than their mother. 'I, who have always trusted you with our protection, never thought you would fail us.'

'Fail you!' Archaeon exploded. He was standing now, rage emanating from his pores. His eyes were popping out of their sockets; Albus had never seen this in his father's countenance in the past. 'Fail you? I leave the country for the East Indies and return to this debacle, and I am the one who has failed you? Our house-elf dies in my absence, and I have failed? This is the outcome of having gone to that school to teach!'

'You recommended I go there,' Lubo said, looking both hurt and angry at the same time. 'Do not deny it was your suggestion! And how dare you imply that Nibs' death had the first thing to do with me! Once again, if your protection…'

'Silence, woman!' Archaeon yelled. Lubo fell immediately still. An uncanny pall fell over the Dumbledore dinner table. Albus and Aberforth had been staring at their food, not wanting to be involved, but this latest comment came as such a shock to them that they both looked up at their parents. In all their lives, neither had ever heard Archaeon speak in such a derogatory fashion towards their mother.

Lubo's face splintered into sobs. Tears began streaming down her face. She pelted for the door, weeping profusely, pausing only to grab a bottle of Firewhisky on the way out. Albus and Aberforth sat in dead silence, not wanting to be the first to speak. The silence was broken, instead, by their father, who assumed an unexpectedly cheerful tone when he spoke to them.

'Aberforth, I leave the house in your charge,' Archaeon said. 'I have important things to attend to. Albus, I have a challenge for you: a test, if you will, to see how your Legilimency has come along.'

Albus wanted to interrupt and say that he didn't think now was the time to be practicing Legilimency, but he quailed before Archaeon's burning face.

'Only your mother and I know the secret to the location of the Dumbledore family wealth,' said Archaeon. 'When your mother is properly drunk on that Firewhisky, attempt to Legilimens her for it. I will return later this evening to see if you have accomplished the task.'

Archaeon disappeared with a pop.

'What in Merlin's beard is he asking you to do?' Aberforth said. 'That is the strangest thing I think he has ever said to you. Why would he want you to know the secret to their hidden wealth?'

Albus could not answer that question. Nor could he properly answer the other questions that were rocketing around inside his head. Most immediate to his thoughts were: what has happened to sour my parents' relationship? Will this quarrel cause them to part ways? What is to become of Aberforth and me? Perhaps more worryingly, Albus had a renewed dispute going on inside his head over whether the man who'd just been in the room was actually his father or not.

He figured that, surely, Archaeon Dumbledore knew where the family treasure was. A fake Archaeon wouldn't know. Perhaps a fake Archaeon would use Albus to try and obtain the secret from Lubo… but why wouldn't the fake Archaeon simply Legilimens Lubo himself? Why get Albus to do it? Perhaps this was the real Archaeon speaking: perhaps he thought it a good test of Albus' magical abilities. A fake Archaeon wouldn't waste time by getting Albus to do it, would he?

Furthermore, the argument between Lubo and Archaeon had raised fresh doubts in Albus' mind. His parents _never_ argued; at least, not in a serious fashion. Perhaps this was a fake Archaeon, trying to spread discord in the family. But why would the fake Archaeon do that? It seemed so pointless. After all, both Lubo and Archaeon had had cause to have a genuine argument for the first time Albus could remember: Archaeon's defenses had failed; you could make a case for Nibs dying because Lubo hadn't been around, and also the attack on the Dumbledore house wouldn't have happened if Lubo was there. What if his parents had both genuinely been in the room, having a really severe argument with good reason? Albus almost began to wish that his father was being portrayed by a fake Archaeon, just so he didn't have to think that his parents were furious with one another.

Eventually Albus realized that he had to Legilimens his mother. If he didn't, Archaeon (fake or real) would be rather angry and who knew what punishment might follow. Albus was afraid that Archaeon might order Lubo to stop teaching him Legilimency and Occlumency, which would be about the worst thing that could happen on top of what had already occurred, short of someone else dying.

He found Lubo lying in the basement, the bottle of Firewhisky clutched in her hand and her head lolled to the side. He'd never seen his mother this drunk before, either. What if she was a fraud, too? Albus couldn't bear beginning to imagine this possibility. He concentrated on trying to get inside his mother's thoughts.

It was remarkably easy. His mind sifted through his mother's thoughts, most of which revolved around the argument that she'd just had with Archaeon, and her concerns over the recent invasion of their house. Albus felt strangely guilty, searching through his mother's mind. He tried burrowing deeper, looking for the secret to the Dumbledore's hidden fortune. He saw an image of their upcoming Defense against the Dark Arts test (it was on shielding spells; Albus sighed inwardly: he already knew them back to front, so he hadn't gotten any benefit from this insight).

Albus sifted through hundreds of memories and thoughts, some of them far too personal. Some of Lubo's intimate memories of happier times with Archaeon made Albus' cheeks burn with shame and embarrassment at having seen them. He wished he didn't have to complete this dreadful assignment for his father. It seemed so cruel, so wrong to be taking advantage of his mother in this state.

At last he found the thought he was looking for. As he probed through the grey recesses of her thoughts, the following words filtered into his own brain…

…_Fidelius Charm… I am the Secret Keeper… the Dumbledore riches… under the hearth in the living room… can only obtain them if I tell you…_

Albus staggered backwards, disconnecting the invisible strands that connected his to his mother's minds. So that was the secret of the Dumbledore wealth: it was protected by that ancient and all-powerful spell, the Fidelius Charm. One could only know where it was if Lubo herself told you where it was. Even Archaeon would have to ask her for it. It was so simple, yet so clever. Albus could see the genius behind the charm. He silently admired his parents for having conceived of the idea.

Late that night, after Albus had crawled into his (now restored) bunk bed and fallen asleep, Archaeon awoke him with a swift shake.

'Let us test your powers of Legilimency,' Archaeon said, without waiting for Albus to shake away the overpowering fingers of sleep in his eyes.

'Oh, father, you're back… I am half asleep… let me think… ah yes, that is what it was: mother is the Secret Keeper. You used the Fidelius Charm to conceal the location. The treasure is under the hearth in our living room.'

A strange glint crossed Archaeon's eyes. It was gone before Albus could look again.

'Very good, my son,' Archaeon said. 'Your mother may have been drunk on Firewhiskey, but your skills are certainly improving at a rapid rate.'

'Father,' Albus said, a childlike fear creeping across him again. 'Are you… are you and mother going to be… that fight…'

'Do not think on it,' Archaeon said. 'Get your sleep. A husband and his wife argue. It is the nature of marriage. Some quarrels are worse than others, but all blow over at some time. Now: I must return at once to the East Indies.'

Without saying a proper goodbye, Archaeon disappeared with another pop. Albus was too tired to wonder why this was, or to think about anything else. He sank into a deep sleep, and in the morning, had almost completely forgotten that his father had ever visited him in the night.


	14. A Hearth Unearthed

Albus Dumbledore and the Wizard's Ruse

Book Three of the _Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts _Series

Disclaimer: this is a work of fan fiction based on the worlds created by JK Rowling. The story is written for entertainment and not for profit.

Author's Note: A few reviewers have questioned whether Albus and his mother shouldn't have noticed/done something about Archaeon's behaviour already. Well, I disagree in part. Let us not forget Albus Dumbledore's fatal tendency to trust people too much and give the wrong people the benefit of the doubt… Besides, read on before you make your judgements...

* * *

"Deception is in the eye of the beholder."

Chapter 14 – A Hearth Unearthed

The Sunday after Albus returned to Hogwarts from the Christmas holidays, he called to order a meeting of the Order in the Room of Requirement. He quickly relayed the details of the assault on the Dumbledore mansion, to which the other Order members reacted with shock and outrage. Albus was careful to conceal the events of Christmas Day; he was too embarrassed to recount his parents' fight or that he'd been asked to Legilimens his own mother while she was drunk. It was enough for the Order to know that some unknown witches or wizards had upturned every carpet, picture and floorboard in the Dumbledore household.

'What did your father have to say about it?' Emily asked. 'I would wager he was furious.'

'He was,' Albus said. 'However, I am not sure if that _was_ my father.'

'You surely cannot think that an impostor was in our house?' said Aberforth from the back of the room.

'Well, he was acting rather oddly, did you not think?' Albus said.

'I did not notice anything overtly different, besides the argu… besides him being a really foul mood,' said Aberforth, flushing crimson when he nearly let slip the fact that Lubo and Archaeon had quarrelled. 'He had a right to be angry. Our house had just been robbed.'

'I agree,' said Albus. 'But remember what he asked me to do? And remember… you know what I am talking about Aberforth. That was not our father.'

'I suppose,' said Aberforth, though he hardly sounded convinced. Albus, on the other hand, had made up his mind after a few days to think about the Christmas disaster. This did not fill him with much confidence. If an impostor Archaeon was wandering about, where was his real father?

'Listen, everyone,' Albus said, putting on a brave face and trying to dampen down his own internal concerns. 'There is a grave need that we take action. If my "father" is indeed an impostor, as I now believe him to be, that means that we have a number of additional problems on our hands. The first is that nobody is looking for the intruders who robbed our house. The impostor claimed to be doing so, and did not permit me to send Fawkes for help from the Ministry. The second is the question of where my real father is. The third is: who is behind this and what can be done to stop them. And let us not forget that Imhotep's Crypt lies emptied of its dark treasures. Something is afoot. We may be the only ones in a position to do something about it.'

'Why would you say that?' said Jenning Ranger earnestly. 'Send your phoenix to the Ministry. Tell your mother your suspicions. Surely someone will believe you.'

'No,' said Albus firmly, 'no to all three those statements. Whether or not my "father" was an impostor, he was right to say that the Ministry cannot be trusted. Too many Black family galleons circulate the Ministry coffers. Someone in the Ministry could be involved, or even behind all this. I also cannot speak to my mother about this. She… I… no, I do not think she would believe me.'

Albus turned red at this point and tried not to think about what he'd seen in his mother's thoughts. The idea of speaking to her about his suspicions at the moment was extremely unpleasant. The truth would most probably come out; how could Albus ever face his mother again if she knew he'd been rifling through her thoughts? He was beginning to feel a very deep sense of shame at his actions. Now that he thought about it, had he actually wanted to Legilimens his mother? It was almost as if he'd been _made_ to do it, as if someone else had _forced_ it upon him..

'You said no to all three my statements,' said Jenning persistently. 'Even if you do not want to go to the Ministry or your mother, surely someone would believe you? What about Professor Prewett?'

'No,' said Albus without any hesitation. 'I am a thirteen year old boy. What adult will believe the wild speculations of a boy? I remember last year, when I accused the Germans of being in league with Phineas Black, the Minister would not hear of it. The word of a boy counts for very little.'

'What if we all stand by you?' said Mars. 'If twenty-two of us make the case, then surely they will believe us?'

'Dumbledore is right,' said John Gaunt, who'd been surprisingly quiet to this point. 'We are only schoolboys and girls. Adults have little time for us at the best of times. Besides, we have very little evidence to base our claims on. At this point in time, all we have is Dumbledore's insistence that his father is behaving strangely. We need evidence.'

'Precisely,' said Albus, nodding in Gaunt's direction. 'As John says, we are in need of substantiation to my suspicions. What I think we are also in need of is to double our efforts in the Room of Requirement. We need to constantly be improving our skills in defensive magic, not to mention searching for answers that some of these books may hold.'

'We can do the practicing and the reading,' said Swarbrick Prince, who rarely said anything in these meetings. 'But how are we going to find evidence to support Dumbledore's claims that his father is an impostor?'

'Good question, Swarbrick,' said Albus, smiling almost paternally at his Slytherin classmate. 'Here's what I propose we do: I shall send Fawkes to the East Indies in search of my father. If he can find my real father, then our problems will surely be at an end. If Fawkes returns without finding him, then we shall use Fawkes to go on clue-collecting missions. We will all take turns to venture out into the world to track down whoever is behind all these mysterious events. In the meantime, we will all pay close attention to our spellwork and the contents of these books in the Room of Requirement. The answer _must_be in here: it is not called the Room of Requirement for nothing, after all!'

Everyone agreed with this plan of action. The Order settled into their chintz armchairs with books from the shelves, some sitting with wand in hand to practice the various incantations they thought they might need to learn. Albus did the same, once he'd sent Fawkes off to India to track down his real father. He was particularly keen on perfecting his disarming, impediment, summoning and shield charms, all of which might be useful later on. Before the group prepared to head down to the Great Hall for dinner, Albus remembered what he'd asked them to do in the holidays.

'Did anyone happen to hear anything suspicious in the holidays?' Albus asked.

Twenty-one heads shook in lame response. It would seem that nobody had cottoned on to any more whispered conversations involving the name Dumbledore. Albus followed them all down to dinner, feeling like there was an empty hole inside of him. His loyal pet phoenix was on the other side of the world, he had a strange feeling Fawkes wouldn't find his father and he was too ashamed to approach his own mother about it all.

* * *

Albus' worries were temporarily allayed by the approaching Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, not to mention a definite upturn in the work required by his teachers. Professor Leon Bones had the Tranfiguration class writing weekly essays as they worked through the challenging process of Switching Spells. As an extension, Albus was expected to practice large animal transfiguration on top of his usual homework. Professor Rolleston had the Charms class learning a new charm every week, something that entailed essay-writing and no end of practice. It didn't help that Albus was reading two grades ahead in the Standard Book of Spells and was consequently expected to learn fifth year spells as well. Professor Longbottom had the third years repotting mandrakes and learning the theory behind their restorative powers; Professor Rookwood expected the third years to spend parts of their free-time coming down to the dungeons to tend to their Restorative Potions. The fact that these potions required daily stirring became something of a nuisance to the third years. Professor Dumbledore, who showed little sign that she was in any way affected by what had happened at Christmas, perhaps expected the most out of the third year Defense against the Dark Arts class. Her clinical approach to _Self Defense for Young Witches and Wizards_ meant that the class had to read a new chapter every week, learn the principles within, and put them into practice during class-time. If that wasn't enough for Albus to deal with, he was also getting accustomed to his new subject, Runes. Professor Logicus gave Albus a month or two to catch up with the rest of the class (he'd missed most of the first term whilst taking Divination), but after that Albus was expected to meet all the weekly problem-solving requirements. In fact, Professor Logicus rather expected Albus to excel at these.

In all, Albus was feeling more burdened than a thirteen year-old could reasonably be expected to cope with. As a consequence, the mystery involving his father and the Dumbledore mansion break-in was put to the back of his mind for most of the week, with the exception of Sunday afternoons when the Order gathered in the Room of Requirement. The rest of the week, Albus hadn't the time to be worrying about what was going on outside of Hogwarts' walls, nor did he have the capacity to go out there and do anything about it. Fawkes did not return from India for weeks. With each Fawkes-less day, Albus thought less and less about it all.

In the meantime, there was also the matter of the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match to consider. Thomas Jones put the Gryffindor team through a rigorous training schedule that put extra strain on Albus' already perilous homework situation. For this reason, Albus did not find himself minding as much when Jeremiah Potter played Seeker in some of the practice sessions.

'I've got to keep my options open,' Thomas explained to Albus one practice, when William's younger brother was zooming around the Quidditch stadium looking for the Snitch. 'If your form dips, or you get injured, I need a second Seeker.'

'I quite understand,' Albus said. 'Besides, next year I might go for your place in the team, seeing as you are leaving Hogwarts.'

'What; play chaser?' Thomas said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. 'That is not a poor idea, Dumbledore. You would make a good Chaser. You are growing rather tall for a good Seeker.'

This cheered Albus up somewhat, and he resolved inwardly to use the summer holidays to refine his chasing skills. A brief thought flitted across his mind as well: the matter of the Gryffindor Quidditch captaincy. With Jones leaving next year, someone would have to take up leadership of the team…

* * *

The Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match took place one Saturday morning in early February. The blustery grey skies were still Fawkes-free, and the mystery of Archaeon Dumbledore was now the furthest thing from Albus' mind. After eating nothing for breakfast (and being told off by Mars, Thomas, Aberforth and his mother for doing so), he joined his team in the Gryffindor changing shed. William was looking pale, but not quite as nervous as he'd been before the first match. He and Albus were back on speaking terms again; nothing strengthens a friendship quite like the camaraderie of sport. Walter Pettigrew was chatting amicably to Ella Eades. Richard Malkin was going through a pre-match ritual Albus had grown used to watching: he would use his wand to ritually clean every part of his uniform, from his boots to his broomstick. Invariably, by the end of the match, it would all be mud-splattered, battered and torn again. Richard was a vigorous Beater at the best of times. Thomas was sitting in relative silence in the corner, looking grim. But Albus' eyes were drawn most often to Alaria McMarsh, the blonde and blue-eyed sixth year Chaser. It didn't seem to matter that she was three years his senior; Albus still grew hot around the neck whenever he saw her.

The whistle blew and the Gryffindor team marched out onto the pitch. Most of the school had traipsed down from the warmth of the castle to watch, although a large proportion of Slytherin hadn't bothered. Albus couldn't find fault with them: the weather was quite unpleasant. He soared into the air, his hair whipping about everywhere in the wind. As his broomstick lifted him up, he saw Davey Jones on the Hufflepuff team and waved. Davey waved back eagerly. Albus felt a twinge of empathy for his friend. Davey was playing Chaser against his own older brother.

The match got underway and Gryffindor immediately surged into a commanding lead. The Jones-McMarsh-Eades combination was one of the best Hogwarts had ever seen (an opinion voiced by Gryffindor's resident ghost, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington, who'd been around for enough centuries to know). Poor Davey and his fellow Hufflepuff Chasers were made to look second-rate by comparison. Ten-nil quickly ballooned to one hundred-nil. Whenever Hufflepuff did get their hands on the Quaffle, Malkin and Pettigrew saw to it that two Bludgers rocketed straight at the person in possession. Hufflepuff's Beaters did not have the skill, pace or physicality needed to match the Gryffindor pair.

Albus, in the meantime, sailed around the upper heights of the stadium, searching for the Snitch. Without any sunlight it was difficult to spot the fluttering golden ball, especially as it was the size of a walnut. The Hufflepuff Seeker kept well clear of Albus. This was the opposite tactic to that used by Gaunt in the Slytherin match, who'd kept on Albus' shoulder all match. Hufflepuff clearly sensed the need to catch the Snitch themselves, in the hope that they would snatch a shock victory. They certainly didn't have the skill needed to win by any other means.

When Gryffindor went ahead by one hundred and eighty to twenty, Albus started to relax. The match was, in effect, won. Even if the Hufflepuff Seeker caught the Snitch, which Albus didn't think likely, Gryffindor would win. If he got to the Snitch first, it would all but hand Gryffindor the Quidditch trophy. Now if he could just spot that flittering golden ball…

Albus was sailing past the Slytherin stand when he heard a familiar voice calling out to him. Over the wind and the roars from the crowd, Albus only heard a fragment of it.

'…you like… rearranged room…'

He spun around in mid-air and searched for the source of the voice. He spotted a very familiar, unwelcome face amongst the Slytherin third years. It was Noxious Black, dark-haired with heavy eyebrows.

'What are you doing here?' Albus demanded, too shocked to concentrate on the game. Noxious had left Hogwarts after second year to attend a foreign school after his father had been killed and disgraced in the Temple of Ast.

'Just visiting old friends,' Noxious yelled back at him. 'Did you hear what I said? How do you like your newly rearranged room…?'

'Dumbledore!' screamed a voice from behind him. Albus spun around again. Alaria McMarsh was pointing towards the far side of the stadium, where Hufflepuff's Seeker was surging towards a tiny golden speck.

Head spinning from what Noxious had just revealed, Albus rocketed across the Quidditch pitch, desperately willing his Cleansweep Two forward. Unfortunately, he was too far away to prevent the inevitable. The Hufflepuff Seeker's hands closed on the Snitch.

'Oh my!' cried the commentator, Ron Lovegood. 'For the second time this year, Dumbledore fails to catch the Snitch but Gryffindor win. Brilliant catch by Shaun O'Reilly for Hufflepuff, but Gryffindor win by two hundred to one hundred and seventy points…!'

In the Gryffindor changing sheds after the match, Thomas was spitting mad, despite the looks of joy on his teammates faces.

'You let us down, Dumbledore!' Thomas cried. 'If you'd caught the Snitch today, we'd have been uncatchable in the competition! As it stands, we're only forty points up on everyone else because you've twice missed the Snitch, so we _still_ have to beat Ravenclaw in the third match! What were you doing?'

'I…' Albus began, but he found his throat dry and unwilling to answer properly. '…I was distracted.'

'Dumbledore was talking to the Slytherins,' Alaria McMarsh said. Albus found he immediately liked her a lot less than before.

'You cannot allow yourself to be put off your stride by the Slytherins,' Thomas said fiercely. 'I am seriously considering standing you down for the final game and playing Potter. Consider yourself on probation.'

Albus cut a fairly tragic figure on the way back to the Gryffindor common room. While everyone else in the house was celebrating, laughing and cheering all the way, Albus walked in silence and alone. He was seething with inward disappointment at failing his team mates, and with an unbridled anger at Noxious Black. What did Noxious know about his house being robbed? Was the Black family responsible? Did Noxious have anything to do with it? Cold, hard anger seeped through Albus' bloodstream, although he didn't know what to do with it yet.

While the rest of Gryffindor House drank Butterbeers and illicitly smuggled Firewhiskeys into the night, Albus hid himself behind a pile of books in the library and contemplated his situation. He had a roll of parchment before him, a quill in his hand. As ideas came to him, he wrote them down.

_Black family wants revenge for Phineas Nigellus' death… blame it on Archaeon Dumbledore… Ministry under their influence from Black fortune… Black family wants to see downfall of Archaeon Dumbledore and his family… Someone finds a way to imitate Archaeon Dumbledore… using _me_ to find out information about Archaeon, but why…? Burgle our mansion in search of… what? Imhotep's Crypt is mysteriously emptied… Are they trying to resurrect Imhotep…? What did they want in the Dumbledore mansion…? The impostor Archaeon forced me to Legilimens my mother… was it the _Imperius_ curse…? What did I find out…? The Dumbledore fortune is underneath the hearth…_

'Oh no,' Albus said out loud. He suddenly remembered the visit the impostor Archaeon had paid him that Christmas night, forcing Albus to tell him the secret that he'd extracted from Lubo's mind. The false Archaeon had imposed some sort of memory charm on him, so Albus hadn't remembered that visit. Now that he did remember, it dawned on him that he might have blown the Dumbledore fortune. He gave a long, frightened moan and said 'Fawkes! Come here, Fawkes, I need you!'

His pet phoenix appeared in a flash of flame on the table beside his parchment. The handsome crimson bird tilted its head, as if to say 'What's the matter?'

'Have you found my father yet?' Albus asked immediately. Fawkes gave a swift shake of its beautiful head. Its deep eyes conveyed to Albus that it'd searched the length of the East Indies without finding his father. 'Then we have not a moment to lose,' Albus said. 'Take me at once to our mansion. I must see whether our home has been robbed again.'

Fawkes held out its tail. Albus took hold of its feathers and was instantly jerked into the Dumbledore living room. His eyes shot straight towards the fireplace, immediately confirming his worst fears. Where the grill had once surrounded the fire, there was now a gaping hole in the floor. Albus lit up his wand and peered down into the cavity. An empty chamber stared back at him, filled only by a few upturned chests. There wasn't a glint of gold, silver or bronze to be seen. Albus didn't know how much money his parents had previously possessed, but it certainly had been more than nothing. He knew that the false Archaeon had stolen everything.

'Fawkes, bring my mother here now,' Albus said. 'Persist until she agrees to take your tail. She must see this.'

Fawkes returned a few moments later, Lubo Dumbledore in tow. She was wearing a nightgown, looking like she'd just been woken up.

'Merlin's beard,' Lubo said, going very pale and sinking to her knees when she saw the empty chamber. 'Oh, Albus, everything is gone! How is this possible? I am the Secret Keeper… this cannot be…'

Albus launched into an explanation. He told his mother everything; about Archaeon's unusual lessons earlier in the year and his stern instruction that Albus didn't tell Lubo about his visit; about how he'd come to suspect that Archaeon was an impostor; how the impostor Archaeon _Imperius_-ed him to Legilimens Lubo and then used a memory charm to make him forget that he'd told the impostor the secret of their treasure; how he'd sent Fawkes to find the real Archaeon in the East Indies and the phoenix hadn't found him; and lastly, he revealed the startlingly suggestive comment Noxious Black had made during the Quidditch match. Lubo listened intently, without once interrupting him. When he was finished, her face was pale but more resolute than before.

'I am highly disappointed that you did not bring these strange occurrences to my attention earlier,' said Lubo.

'You are not surprised that father is missing?' Albus said swiftly.

'I know that he is missing,' Lubo said sharply. 'I suspected him at Christmas; it was not Archaeon with whom I quarrelled. I would have done something then, if it were not for the fact that the Firewhiskey was poisoned with a Sleeping Draught.'

'So you were not drunk when I...' Albus said.

'No, of course not,' Lubo snapped. 'Stop interrupting. I immediately sent word to the East Indies and learned that your father has been missing since early August.'

'Since early August!' Albus cried. 'He only went to the East Indies in early August.'

'I know that,' Lubo said, a bite of impatience in her voice.

'So, if you knew that he was missing, why have you not found him yet?' Albus said.

'Will you cease interrupting?' Lubo cried. 'I have been looking for your father ever since I determined that he was missing. I have a number of our family allies involved in the search. Do not presume that you are the only person with the capacity to create Orders and draw on multiple resources.'

Albus nodded meekly. His cheeks were a shade of red. He realized how stupid he was to think that only he could have seen through the impostor Archaeon, and to think that only he could solve the mystery.

'I want to help find him,' Albus said.

'You will do no such thing,' Lubo said firmly. 'As it is, you have already kept priceless information from me. Had you told me that "Archaeon" had given you Legilimency lessons in August, I would have known that something was afoot. Your real father never acts in a devious fashion.'

'I am sorry,' Albus said humbly. 'As I am sorry for Legilimensing you: I never meant to do it. I think I was forced into it by the _Imperius _curse.'

'I do not blame you, son,' Lubo said, her voice softer and more forgiving. 'Whoever this impostor is, they are a powerful wizard to be imitating your father and breaking into our home. You would have struggled to resist the impostor's magic.'

'What is going to happen now?' Albus said, blinking away the tears that were almost rising to the surface of his eyelids. 'We have no money. Father is gone. What is going to happen to us?'

'Shh, child,' Lubo said, putting her arms around Albus. 'As I said, I have powerful allies searching for your father. Put it out of your mind. You have schoolwork to concentrate on. There is nothing you can do about it. Come; get Fawkes to take you back to school. I must notify my allies that our hearth has been emptied of our gold.'

Fawkes took Albus back to his dormitory, where he clambered into his four-post bed behind his curtains and locked himself in with his own thoughts. As he drifted off to sleep, there was but one thought on his mind: _I want to help find my father. I am not going to sit here at Hogwarts doing nothing. The Order of Explorers, Adventurers and Inspired Magical Apprentices_ will_ find Archaeon Dumbledore._


	15. The Order Mobilized!

Albus Dumbledore and the Wizard's Ruse

Book Three of the _Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts _Series

Disclaimer: this is a work of fan fiction based on the worlds created by JK Rowling. The story is written for entertainment and not for profit.

Author's Note: Once again, sorry to have taken so long to update. I'm busy writing my own kids book right now, which is why I've been so "slackadaisical". But I'll do my best to ensure this story get the ending it deserves. Keep reviewing, those who read. Keep me motivated, else I'm liable to stop altogether. I work well with encouragement, like all people do.

* * *

"Greatness begins somewhere…"

Chapter 15 – The Order Mobilized!

For the duration of March, Albus obeyed his mother's instructions that he concentrate on his schoolwork and let her worry about Archaeon. This was partly because Albus was simply too busy at school to think about the mystery for long periods. His classroom workload was enormous, largely because all of his teachers had him on extension programs, and Quidditch practices took an enormous toll on him as well. After twice failing to catch the Snitch, despite Gryffindor winning both games, Albus was under increasing pressure from Thomas Jones to improve his Seeking. Unfortunately, the added expectation only served to make Albus' flying worse; until, after one dreadful practice in which he'd taken an hour to catch the Snitch, Thomas lost his patience.

'I'm sorry, Dumbledore,' Thomas said afterwards, 'but I have no choice but to drop you from the team. Jeremiah Potter will play Seeker against Ravenclaw.'

Albus hadn't even opened his mouth to argue. He deserved to be dropped.

The only thing keeping Albus going during this difficult time was his personal motive of helping to find his father. Every Sunday afternoon, while the rest of the Order read books in the Room of Requirement or practiced counter-jinxes, Albus reclined in a comfortable chintz armchair and worked on his plan. He didn't show it to anyone at first. He didn't even give a glimpse to Mars, who stopped sitting next to him in classes after this, nor did he show John Gaunt, who assumed that Albus would share the idea with him.

This wasn't an idea Albus wanted people to hear about until he'd perfected it. Albus was growing self-assured in his capacity to think. He often spent lessons thinking of ways that spells, charms, potions and jinxes could better be performed. He sometimes even took to writing his own additions in the margins of textbooks. Some of these additions backfired horribly (like the unfortunate episode in Transfiguration where the porcupine he'd been turning into a pincushion exploded and a hundred quills had lodged in his hands, which he'd thrown up to protect his face). But more often than not, Albus's additions were a spectacular success (like the time he'd improved the performance of the Shield Charm so that it protected the people standing around him as well as himself).

Indeed, Albus Dumbledore was starting to set himself apart from everyone in his classes. His friends seemed uncomfortable being in his presence, such was the aura he was developing. Fifth and sixth years would stop in the corridors and gaze at Albus when he walked past, having heard rumours of the third year student who was performing magic two to three years ahead of himself. Once or twice a sixth year from Slytherin or Ravenclaw would even attempt to jinx Albus, to test the rumour. A few moments later the spell would have rebounded on them, and Albus usually added a _Furnunculus _or _Tarantellegra_ for good measure.

Albus was well on his way to being known as the Best Student Hogwarts had Ever Seen.

Then, one Sunday afternoon in late March, when late afternoon sunlight trickled in through the windows of the Room of Requirement, Albus called the Order to attention. He magically magnified his completed plan so that it filled one side of the room. Everyone gazed in rapt attention as Albus read it out loud.

_THE ORDER OF EXPLORERS, ADVENTURERS AND INSPIRED MAGICAL APPRENTICES_

_- INVESTIGATION INTO THE DISAPPEARANCE OF ARCHAEON NOBILO DUMBLEDORE -_

_PLAN OF ACTION AS SET FORTH BY ALBUS PERCIVAL WULFRIC BRIAN DUMBLEDORE_

_1. In order to obtain the information that Lubo Dumbledore is withholding, Albus Dumbledore will enlist the services of the Hogwarts School portraits._

_2. Albus Dumbledore will also request that the Hogwarts School portraits keep their ears open for any mysterious discussions taking place around the school, and that they report back to members of the Order immediately._

_3. Fawkes will serve as the official transport device of the Order._

_4. Albus Dumbledore will request the assistance of Professor Equus whose ageless wisdom may help towards the solving of this mystery._

_5. In light of Noxious Black's disclosure at the last Quidditch match, suggesting that the Blacks are somehow involved, the Order will conduct a mission on the tail of Fawkes to the Noble & Ancient House of Black for clues._

_6. Order will also conduct a mission to furthest East Indies, and attempt the exploration of Archaeon Dumbledore's Archaeowizarding digs._

_7. Order will continue to scour the books in the Room of Requirement, searching for the answer we seek._

_THIS RESOLUTION SET DOWN ON THIS, THE 27__TH__ DAY OF MARCH, IN THE YEAR ANNO DOMINI 1855, THE YEAR OF MERLIN 903._

The Order sat in passive silence for a full minute, digesting Albus's bold proposition. Not all held expressions of excitement. Some looked downright scared by what Albus was suggesting.

'That sounds like a well thought out plan,' said Emily Marchbanks, 'but I disagree with the expedition to the House of Black. If we were to be caught, we would be expelled and sent to Azkaban.'

'Going to the East Indies is quite a risk, too,' said Jenning Ranger. 'I have heard frightful stories about the Eastern mystics and what they can do with non-verbal magic.'

'Do you really think the portraits will help us?' asked Adam Longbottom, looking doubtful.

'I quite like Dumbledore's plan,' said John Gaunt, 'although I might have made a few alterations, myself.'

'When you stop questioning my logic and be quiet,' Albus said loudly, allowing energy to flow from him so that everyone in the room's hair stood on end (he'd only learned this ability recently), 'you will remember that I am the Founder and elected leader of the Order. Those of you too afraid to join me on missions are welcome to remain here, in the safety of Hogwarts Castle. Those of you who believe my plan is foolhardy are welcome to depart the Order. I have spent a month preparing this plan; it is not subject to dispute or conjecture. We are looking for _my_ father, if you recall. This is what we are going to do.'

A stunned silence filled the room; Albus had never spoken with such quiet power before. He hadn't once raised his voice, yet everyone there had felt his words strike chills into their bones. None, Gaunt included, could deny Albus's authority.

'I think it is a fine plan,' said Allan Glastonbury, the little Gryffindor second year. Albus smiled at him; he grinned back.

'Very well, Dumbledore,' said Swarbrick from the back of the room, 'when will this go into effect? We cannot simply leave school in the middle of term.'

'I have given that thought, of course,' said Albus, nodding at Swarbrick. 'We have a Hogsmeade visit next Saturday. Once again, half the Order will act as scouts and diversions, the rest of us will go to the Noble and Ancient House of Black. On Sunday, during this meeting, some of us shall travel to my father's digs in the East Indies looking for clues. The Room of Requirement will not reveal that we have left the school.'

'And the portraits?' asked Maggie Weasley. 'What about Professor Equus?'

'I shall ask the portrait of my great-great-great-grandfather, Albion Dumbledore, to relay my request to the other portraits,' said Albus. 'As for Professor Equus, I shall speak to him after Care of Magical Creatures, of course.'

'What if either of them refuses you?' asked Emily.

'They will not,' said Albus, unruffled.

'But what if they do?' Emily persisted.

'Seeing as I have no other alternative,' said Albus, 'I will do everything in my power to make sure that they do not refuse me.'

'One more thing, Dumbledore,' said Gaunt, 'how can you be certain these steps will lead to the recovery of your father. He may even be dead, for all we know.'

Everyone else gasped, as if Gaunt had said a particularly repulsive swear word. Aberforth looked ready to jinx Gaunt, who had his want pointed at Aberforth within seconds. Albus remained unflappable, however.

'Put your wands away, both of you,' said Albus. 'I am quite certain my father is not dead, at least, not yet. I believe whoever has kidnapped him has done so for a purpose. There is obviously something my father knows, or can do, that they require of him.'

'How can you be so sure?' asked Gaunt. 'You do not know the inner workings of the dark mind.'

'I know more than you imagine,' said Albus. 'My own life has already taken me to some very dark, unfortunate places. I am learning, very swiftly, how a dark mind thinks.'

This statement seemed to unsettle the others, who regarded Albus as if he'd suddenly shifted allegiance to Slytherin House. Albus ignored them. Instead, he magically returned his parchment back to a normal size and posted it on the wall beside the door.

'Keep working hard,' Albus said, 'and be ready on Saturday for our mission to the Noble and Ancient House of Black. We are going to need to be prepared to face the worst.'

* * *

Albus's plan to recruit the portraits and Professor Equus to the services of the Order was put into motion the very next day. Immediately following Care of Magical Creatures with the Hufflepuffs, Albus stopped the withered old man in his brown robe from disappearing into the Forbidden Forest.

'Excuse me, Professor Equus, could I have a word?'

Some of the Hufflepuffs in the Order watched with eager eyes. Albus had to shoo Keiron, Edith and Adam away with a tilt of his head. They stalked off reluctantly.

'Young one, you have a request to make of me,' said Professor Equus. It wasn't a question; it was a statement of fact. Albus wasn't surprised by the ancient creature's perceptiveness.

'Yes, so I shall get to the point,' said Albus. 'My father is missing; you may have heard.'

'I learned of it,' said Professor Equus, giving nothing away on his wrinkled face.

'I was wondering if you could… er, if you would be able to help me track him down. Or at the least, obtain clues as to his disappearance.'

Professor Equus regarded Albus with his deeply sunken eyes. It truly was difficult to read much in the face of someone that old.

'You are a remarkable wizard,' said Professor Equus. 'I see greatness in you, greatness that is flourishing already, despite your youth.'

Albus's cheeks flushed with the compliment. It wasn't every day a creature many thousands of years old called a thirteen year old boy "great".

'Er, sir; that did not really answer my question.'

'You are not to be distracted,' said Professor Equus. 'I will, of course, seek answers for you. But the answers I can seek may not solve your present dilemma. The answers I tend to find relate to matters of far greater importance, matters of ageless significance.'

Albus couldn't imagine what could be more important than finding his father, but he didn't ask.

'Thank you, sir,' said Albus.

Professor Equus did something that he'd only once let Albus see. He transformed into his magnificent, handsome horse form, releasing copious amounts of golden light as he transfigured. The horse reared up on its hind-legs, whinnied a farewell at Albus, and galloped off into the Forest.

Glowing with the weight of Professor Equus's complimentary words, the sight of the transformation fixed in his mind's eye, and the knowledge that Professor Equus was going to help find his father, Albus returned to the castle in a very good mood. He even invited Mars to come with him when he spoke to Albion Dumbledore's portrait. Mars's countenance lit up as if he'd been hit by a Cheering Charm; Albus couldn't have known how much Mars was missing his friend.

The pair tracked down Albion on the sixth floor. Albus's great-great-great-grandfather seemed to like visiting people; he appeared to have a network of friends as complex as Albus's Order. Albion sometimes frequented portraits of murderous barons in the Slytherin Common Room; he had Friday afternoon tea with a coven of witches on the third floor; he occasionally popped into the Headmistress's office to debate matters of current affairs with Fortesque. On this occasion, Albus found Albion Dumbledore duelling a dragon in a large painting near the ceiling.

'Excuse me, Albion!' Albus called up to his ancient relative. Albion looked down from where he was battling the dragon. Moments later his robe was on fire. Albion vanished the flames, promptly silenced the dragon and clambered down through five portraits until he'd shoved a fat old witch out of her frame in order to be closer to Albus.

'How may I help you, my great-great-great-grandson?' Albion asked. Albus noticed that the bearded old man looked similar to the grown-up Albus he'd seen during that vision in Divination. He quickly put the thought of his future death out of mind.

'My father, your great-great-grandson, is missing,' said Albus. 'My mother, Lubo Dumbledore, is investigating but she will not tell me any details. I need you to rally the portraits. I want to know everything my mother knows, and to hear if there are any other strange mutterings going on at Hogwarts. I want this reported back to me, or to one of the members of the Order like Mars here.'

Albion Dumbledore's expression was inscrutable while he considered this proposal. At last he cleared his throat and spoke.

'Portraits are commanded to keep the secrets they hear,' said Albion, 'but you have achieved quite a status amongst the portraits. I, too, have considerable influence amongst them. I believe I could convince a fair few to keep their ears open. Portraits have a liking for gossip, you know.'

'Thank you,' Albus said, grinning. He knew about the portraits' penchant for gossip – after his first year, when he'd destroyed Imhotep in the Egyptian wizard's crypt, the resulting conversation in ex-Headmaster Phineas Nigellus's office had been broadcast to the entire school within minutes.

'My pleasure,' said Albion.

Mars and Albus returned to Gryffindor Tower, very pleased with themselves. The first steps in Albus's plans were going more smoothly than he could have asked for.

* * *

Mid-week, Albus's plan hit a snag that threatened to derail the entire investigation before they'd even had the chance to visit the House of Black. His mother called him aside at the end of Defense against the Dark Arts.

'Albus, we haven't had a lesson in Occlumency and Legilimency for some time,' she said. 'Granted, I have been preoccupied with the search for… with you know what. Come by after dinner tonight, and we'll have a lesson.'

Thinking quickly, Albus tried to avoid the impending disaster.

'Can it be in Legilimency?' Albus asked. 'I think I need more work in that.'

'No,' said Lubo. 'Protecting your mind from outside invasion is more useful than invading other people's minds. Besides, I do believe you are turning into a natural at Legilimency. It is your Occlumency that worries me. We shall work on that tonight.'

Albus went away in something of a blind panic. He had yet to master Occlumency; every single lesson, whether it was with his mother or the impostor Archaeon, had resulted in his mind being penetrated. If his mother learned that he'd mobilized the Order to track down Archaeon when she'd expressly forbidden it… the consequences weren't worth thinking about.

Albus gave up having dinner. Instead, he hid away in a corner of the Gryffindor common room, poring over the book his real father had given him on his thirteenth birthday. He'd read Bagtrand Smythe's _Into the Mind of Thine Enemy – A Guide to Legilimency and Occlumency_ cover to cover, twice in fact. But he needed to find something, _anything,_ which could close his mind to his mother tonight.

Then he found it, buried deep inside Chapter 77 – _Shielding the Skull._

…_as a temporary measure, the wizard may use a relatively simple skull-shielding charm to divert intrusive attempts by his opponent. The charm, _Protegum Cranio,_ is best performed using non-verbal magic. The difficulty with this method, however, is that it requires an enormous amount of concentration. The person performing the skull-shielding charm has to repeatedly activate the charm, as it is such a short-lasting measure. Thus, they expend all their energy defending their skull, and are immediately rendered vulnerable to other attacks on their bodily person. The person using _Protegum Cranio_ may not be ready to disapparate when a fatal curse is thrown at them…_

Albus gave an immense sigh of relief. His mother had no intention of throwing charms at him while she was Legilimensing his mind. As long as he kept performing the _Protegum Cranio_ spell all lesson, he would keep the knowledge of the Order's investigation secret.

With an abiding sense of fear still gnawing at his insides, Albus went to the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom, desperately hoping that Bagtrand Smythe's shortcut would help him tonight.

'Alright, Albus,' said Lubo, waving him towards the chintz armchair she'd conjured for him out of thin air. 'Let us see how much progress you have made. Your teachers have been most complimentary about your efforts in other lessons, and you have done some spectacular wandwork in this classroom too. Occlumency, however, has seemingly been beyond your grasp to this point. Remember to free yourself of all other concerns. Let your mind go blissfully blank, before resisting my intrusion.'

Albus ignored these instructions. He was cheating, no doubt, by using _Protegum Cranio,_ but that didn't matter at the moment. His secrets needed protecting more than he needed lessons in Occlumency.

'_Protegum cranio,'_ Albus thought inside his head. He immediately felt a strange, cap-like sensation on the surface of his brain. It was as if something had appeared just inside his skull, protecting his actual brain. This was quite the strangest sensation Albus had ever felt, but it seemed to be working. He could feel something prodding the shield – undoubtedly his mother's attempts at Legilimency – but they didn't seem to be working.

The shield started to fade. Albus felt like it was going away. He almost caught a glimpse of the Room of Requirement rising to the surface of his mind, as if Lubo was pulling it out with a string. _'Protegum cranio'_ he thought quickly. The shield returned, and Lubo was repelled.

This continued for what seemed like hours. Albus lost count of the number of times he had to say _Protegum cranio._ True to Bagtrand Smythe's words, he was unable to think of anything else while he held the skull-shielding charm in his mind. If his mother had chosen to jinx him, he'd have been a sitting target. Furthermore, the effects of the spell seemed to wear off faster as time went by. Perhaps he was growing too tired to perform it properly; else he was too tired to concentrate on maintaining the charm. Regardless of the reason, on several occasions thoughts of the Order nearly drifted to the surface of his mind. On at least five times, Albus thought his mother had caught a glimpse of something secret.

When Albus thought he couldn't go on any longer, Lubo called an end to the lesson.

'That shall be enough for tonight,' she said. Albus had to blink several times before his mother came back to focus in his eyes. 'You have done remarkably well, although you're soaked with sweat and you look rather pale. Do you feel alright?'

'I am fine,' said Albus, although he felt utterly exhausted. Lubo frowned.

'That was a great step forward,' Lubo said. 'Before long I think you will master the defense of your mind without exhausting yourself.'

'Thanks,' said Albus, wishing desperately that he was in bed. 'Good night, mother.'

'Good night, my son,' she said. Just as he reached the door, she called out, 'oh, and Albus, I hope you are not too concerned about your father. I have not had any success locating him yet, but my contacts are working on leads. We will find him, I promise.'

'Yes, mother,' said Albus. He thought he saw the glint of a tear in her eye, but his eyes were blurry so he put it down to that.

Albus hurried back to Gryffindor Tower, needing sleep worse than he'd ever done. Performing the same charm repeatedly for an hour had worn him out completely. He collapsed onto his bed and was asleep before he hit the spread. His sleep was dream-free, and in the morning he would be able to turn his thoughts to the grand adventures of the upcoming weekend: missions into the Noble and Ancient House of Black and Archaeon Dumbledore's digs in the East Indies…


	16. Black House, Deadly Digs

Albus Dumbledore and the Wizard's Ruse

Book Three of the _Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts _Series

Disclaimer: this is a work of fan fiction based on the worlds created by JK Rowling. The story is written for entertainment and not for profit.

Author's Note: I read HBP again and mourned my dear Albus Dumbledore once more. He is utterly the best character in the series; easily the best wizard by far and the only one who ever understood Voldemort and how to destroy him. I swear Harry has to do it by sheer luck in book seven, without Dumbledore to guide him.

I am getting excited about the upcoming 7th and final HP book. I hope anything JKR writes about Dumbledore's past doesn't contradict this story too much. Otherwise nobody will want to read it anymore :p Enjoy this latest update.

* * *

"Into the heart of darkness the soul must remain alight"

Chapter 16 – Black House, Deadly Digs

On Saturday, the Order convened in the Hog's Head, ready for their mission to the Noble and Ancient House of Black. They ordered butterbeers from the hag at the counter. Aberforth seemed to have grown fond of this place (the product of many illegal visits to the basement to "stock up" on butterbeers and Firewhiskeys for Gryffindor celebrations). He even remarked, 'I think I'll own this place one day.'

'Mother will not be too impressed with a career choice like that' Albus remarked. 'Nor will father…'

He was reminded why he was going on this mission. His father was missing; he'd sworn to himself he'd find him. He hoped to find some useful clues in the Noble and Ancient House of Black. This had the potential to be a disaster if they didn't find anything, especially if they got caught.

'So, who is going to the House of Black?' asked Gaunt.

'I will take those who did not get to visit Imhotep's Crypt on our last adventure,' said Albus. 'Keiron, Edith, Adam, Mary, Mark and Alice can come. Once again, Fawkes will have to make two trips.'

'You're only taking _them?'_ said Gaunt, disdainfully.

'Well, I suppose you and Aberforth can join us,' said Albus. 'I do not want too many people joining us, for we risk being caught.'

'We shall keep watch then,' said Emily. 'We shall use Fawkes to alert you if someone suspects that you have left Hogsmeade.'

'Very good,' said Albus. 'Alright, Fawkes, take us to the Noble and Ancient House of Black.'

The phoenix flashed into view and held out its tail feathers for some of them to take hold. They were whisked away in an instant. The phoenix did this twice, delivering the nine adventurers to a dark and musty room whose curtains were fast shut. A cabinet creaked and moaned nearby the door; a vast family tree lay plastered along one wall; various oddments decorated the floor and corners, and shifty figures moved in and out of the portraits. The room smelled like wet, mouldy carpets, and there was another odour: one of sickness and dying. Albus knew, though how he knew he couldn't say; that someone in this house was nearing the end of their life.

'I imagine this is their drawing room,' whispered Keiron, wandering over to a sloping table with writing instruments on it.

'Do not touch anything, fool,' said Gaunt swiftly, pulling Keiron back by the hem of his robes just as he reached for a silver container holding a dark substance. 'This is a house of the Dark Arts. To touch anything would be madness.'

'Gaunt is right,' said Albus. 'Stick together, and keep quiet. We do not know whether there is anyone present in the house. If we get separated, call immediately for Fawkes and he will take you back to Hogsmeade. Are we agreed on this?'

The others nodded. Keiron's near-miss with the container had frightened the Hufflepuffs. They gathered into a close huddle, looking terrified. Albus immediately regretted bringing them along. It was only out of fairness that he'd done so – he'd promised everyone in the Order an adventure that year. The only problem was that he could only trust Gaunt and Aberforth not to do something stupid. And even Aberforth wasn't the most reliable person. Gaunt was a little too familiar with the Dark Arts, too.

_I should have come by myself,_ Albus thought. But it was too late. They were here; he had to make the most of it.

'What are we looking for?' asked Adam Longbottom nervously.

'Clues as to my father's whereabouts,' said Albus. 'Come, there does not seem to be anything of value in this room. Let us explore the house, but do it with as much stealth as possible.'

'Does anyone know a Disillusionment Charm?' asked Aberforth. 'I have just started learning it in Charms, but I haven't mastered it yet.'

'No,' said Albus. 'I wish I had thought of this; I would have asked William if I could borrow his invisibility cloak.'

'I can perform a rudimentary Disillusionment Charm,' said Gaunt. 'I have not perfected the technique either, but it will provide us with some cover at least.'

Albus felt like an egg had been cracked open on his head, as a strange sensation trickled down the length of his body. Gaunt attempted to Disillusion everyone, and Albus quickly saw that it wasn't a perfect incantation by any means. He could see the others' outlines quite clearly, but they were all (mostly) see-through. He supposed they didn't have another option. This was the best they had.'

'Very well, we are all partly disillusioned,' said Albus, 'let us now explore. Follow me.'

He stepped out of the drawing room into a dull, musty corridor where cobwebs hung down like morbid Christmas decorations from the ceiling. The wooden floorboards creaked ominously; Albus stopped dead, his heart racing. After a few breathless seconds, when nobody had come running up the stairs to investigate, he made a few more steps. The same spot on the floor creaked every time someone stepped on it; they all quickly learned to avoid standing there.

'Go upstairs first,' said Aberforth. 'I think I hear some voices downstairs.'

There was a faint hint of conversation sifting up through the floorboards from somewhere deep in the bowels of the house. They made their way upstairs, peering into the rooms they passed for any hint that Archaeon Dumbledore had been there or was currently a captive of the Black family.

They were mostly disappointed. Every room was poorly lit, with heavy grey curtains drawn tightly across the windows. Creepy cupboards and chests of drawers, full to the brim with Dark objects, filled the corners of these rooms. A few portraits looked up when they heard the creaking of floorboards, but Gaunt's Disillusionment Charm was enough to pull the wool over their eyes. Unfortunately for Albus, there wasn't the slightest trace of a clue suggesting that his father was in the Black's hands.

The last room they came to was the attic. Albus was surprised to find that it was a bedroom; there was a bed in the corner covered by a quilt adorned with Quidditch balls (sparkling golden Snitches, a few heavy Bludgers and Quaffles galore.) When he saw spellbooks on the table labelled with the crest of the Black Forest School of Magical Arts, Albus quickly determined whose room this was.

'Noxious Black lives here,' said Albus. 'He is the one who hinted that his family had something to do with the theft of our home. Search his drawers; we may find a clue.'

They spanned out across Noxious's room and hunted for clues. A strange gleam was present in the eyes of the Hufflepuff third years; they'd liked Noxious as little as Albus had.

'We have a clue,' said Aberforth, proudly holding aloft a sack full of galleons.

'How do you know that is a clue?' asked Gaunt. 'The Black boy might simply have been wealthy.'

'This is Dumbledore gold, I know it,' said Aberforth. 'The filthy rat stole from us.'

'You cannot prove that,' said Gaunt hotly.

'I can,' said Albus, taking the sack of galleons from Aberforth. He raised his wand and incanted: '_Galleons a-plenty, return to your rightful owner, be they Dumbledore or Black.'_

The sack hovered in mid-air for a moment, before suddenly tumbling to the floor. It smashed a hole in the floorboards and carried on its downward journey, breaking new holes in the lower floors as it did. It must have stopped in the basement, for someone far below tried looking up the many holes and probably caught a glimpse of Albus's Disillusioned outline.

'We have to get out of here, immediately,' said Albus. 'Fawkes!'

The phoenix arrived instantly and whisked Keiron, Edith, Adam, Mark and Mary away. Albus could hear someone running up the stairs towards them. He didn't want Noxious to see him there; being caught was not an option. But a thought crossed his mind; Noxious had probably done the damage to Albus's bedroom. Here was a chance to gain a sort of revenge…

Just before Albus grabbed Fawkes' tail, and seconds before Noxious Black burst into the room, Albus Vanished every item in Noxious's bedroom with a single flick of his wand.

Back in the Hog's Head, Albus filled the other Order members in on the details of their expedition. They were all curious to hear what the Black's house looked like, rightly disappointed to hear that the mystery had not come any closer to being solved, and amused by Albus's unintended destruction of the floors and his Vanishment of Noxious's bedroom.

'I did not think you would stoop to taking revenge on someone,' said Emily, her eyebrows furrowed.

'It was a humorous revenge,' said Albus. 'A simple charm will lift the Vanishing jinx. I just wished for Noxious to get something of a shock when he enters his bedroom. True revenge would have meant destroying his possessions. I would never stoop to such a level.'

'The House of Black certainly sounds Ancient,' said Mars, 'but it does not sound at all Noble.'

'I would have to agree with you there,' said Albus, wearing a sardonic smile.

'So what have we learned from this exercise?' asked Jenning, leaning forward eagerly.

'Unfortunately, very little,' said Albus. 'Either way, we still do not know whether the Black family has any knowledge of my father's whereabouts. The only thing we truly determined was that Noxious's sack of gold belonged to him, and not to the Dumbledore estate.'

'I still think he thieved it,' said Aberforth.

'My dear brother,' said Albus, smiling, 'just because that is what you would have done, does not mean that every other person acts in such a deviant fashion.'

'How dare you call me a deviant?' cried Aberforth, seizing Albus and knuckling his skull. Albus quickly slipped out his wand and gave Aberforth a massive, flowing white beard. Everyone else choked on their butterbeers, delighting in the sight of a bearded Aberforth.

'I quite fancy this look,' said Ruth, putting an arm around her boyfriend. 'Perchance you will keep the beard?'

'No, I will not,' said Aberforth, his eyes throwing daggers at a giggling Albus. 'I will; however, go to the Room of Requirement and figure out how to perform this spell on my brother.'

'You will be in there a long time then,' Albus teased. Aberforth tried jinxing him all the way back to Hogwarts, but Albus's _Protego_ was the best shield in school. Aberforth only succeeded in getting a blood nose, an itchy nose that got itchier every time he scratched it, and a donkey's ear, when all his spells rebounded on himself.

* * *

The following day, the Order met in the Room of Requirement for the second phase of their weekend adventure. Albus had to take the second years and the one first year in the Order to the East Indies; none of them had been to Hogsmeade, so they'd missed out on the other missions.

'Mathilda, Gregory, Allan and Jeremiah, you shall come to the East Indies with me,' said Albus. 'I will also take Maggie, Mars, Emily, Edward and Elizabeth.'

'Ah, so you are favouring your friends, are you?' said Gaunt dismissively.

'As I recall, John, you have joined me on each adventure thus far,' said Albus, not standing for Gaunt's sullenness. 'Do not pout because you are sitting this one out.'

Gaunt had no response. Instead, he threw himself into a couch by the fire and started summoning books from the shelf using his wand. Those who weren't going on the expedition took up their usual positions on chintz armchairs or cushions to read or practice spells. The rest stood in a circle and awaited Fawkes' arrival.

'We are going to investigate my father's Archaeowizarding digs,' said Albus. 'We must look for clues as to his disappearance, and any other signs of abnormality. Be careful; we do not know what we will meet there. I have never been there before, so I know as little as you what we may encounter.'

Fawkes held out his tail and took the young wizards and witches halfway across the world to the East Indies. They arrived in a giant pit, the sides of which towered high above them. There was a blue circle above them where they could see the sky. Albus could feel that magic had been used to blast away the ground, creating this hole. He could almost _see_ the presence of not-so-old magic. His father must have made some progress on his digs before being kidnapped, he determined.

They were inside the ruins of an old Indian temple, one that must have been buried under hundreds of years of dirt. Ancient Vedic symbols adorned the crumbling pillars.

'Ooh, I have heard of this,' said Mars, who held an interest in Astronomy on account of his name. 'These images are from Jyotisha, the ancient Vedic art of astronomy. The Hindoos, they practice this; they use Jyotisha to forecast their karma. You know, the idea that your good luck or bad luck is because of your karma. They had to perform certain ceremonies at various times in the year to avoid the pain of separation in life.'

'That is interesting,' said Albus, frowning, 'though I wonder what my father was doing researching a Jyotisha Temple. He has never expressed an interest in things like karma or fortune.'

'There is more to this place than that,' said Mars. 'You should be able to guess that. I expect there are many magical artifacts under the ground here, that your father would be interested in.'

'Perhaps,' said Albus. 'Come, look around for clues, everyone.'

They strolled between the ruined temple pillars, which, had they been seen from the crow's point of view, were arranged to form the Jyotisha zodiac. There were ancient statues between the pillars, often of women with many arms. In some cases the women were sitting on eagles or lions. Mars talked as they went about the various houses and aspects of East Indian astrology, which made Albus wonder all the more what his father had been looking for in this place. Astrology was a load of fortune-telling nonsense.

_Or was it… you saw your future death in Divination class a few months ago, remember?_

The Order scoured the Archaeowizarding digs for clues, but there was not much to be seen, besides the ruins of the ancient temple. That is, until Elizabeth Figg gave a shriek and called for the others to come quickly.

They ran over to where Elizabeth was standing, facing a large wall full of ancient Vedic symbols and scriptures. There, a large chunk of the wall seemed to have been blasted away. Black scorch marks tarnished other parts of the wall. There were scuff marks in the earth in front of the wall; clearly there had been a struggle here.

'Stand back, everyone,' said Albus. 'I am going to check this place for evidence of magic.'

Albus wandered forward with his hands outstretched and his eyes closed. He let his body relax and began to feel the tingling sensation of old magic around him. When he reached the place where a hole had been blasted in the wall, his hands felt the memory of a Stunning charm. He figured it was not more than seven or eight months old.

'There is no doubt,' said Albus. 'This is where my father was captured. We have found a clue at last. Fawkes, fetch the others. They will want to see this.'

Fawkes conducted a few trips until the entire Order stood around the scene of the battle. Their eyes took in the first real clue that they'd discovered.

'What are those bones over there?' asked the ever-perceptive Gaunt. Albus glanced to the side, where seven bones lay in a neat row. A sinking feeling filled his guts. He knew what these were, almost by instinct.

'Those are the dead bodies of my father's Archaeowizarding colleagues,' said Albus. 'I can see the magic used to transfigure them into bones.'

'Oh my,' said Emily, putting a hand to her mouth.

'Prove it,' said Gaunt. 'Your father may be one of them. Undo the transfiguration on them.'

'No,' said Ruth. 'I do not wish to see dead bodies, and I daresay the second and first years will not either.'

'I want to,' said Allan keenly.

'Those who do not wish to see; turn away,' said Albus. Hand trembling somewhat, Albus stepped forward and performed the complex transfiguration to return the bones to their original forms.

Seven dead, rotting corpses lay before them. Some of the girls screamed. Jeremiah looked green to the point of fainting. One of the bodies was, without any doubt, that of Professor Januar Solstice, the Defense against the Dark Arts teacher for whom Lubo Dumbledore was serving as a temporary replacement. All seven of the Archaeowizards had been murdered by the _Avada Kedavra._

'Is our father here?' cried Aberforth, running between the bodies looking panicked. Albus followed him, just as concerned. Fortunately, none of the seven were Archaeon Dumbledore. Their father was not there.

'This is awful,' said Emily. 'We must let the Ministry know.'

'No,' said Albus. 'We will all be expelled if the Ministry learns that we have left Hogwarts to visit an Archaeowizarding dig on the other side of the world. No, I have a better idea. I will write an anonymous letter and get an Indian post-owl to deliver it to the Ministry. Meanwhile, Fawkes had better take you all back to Hogwarts. We have seen enough for one day.'

Fawkes duly returned the others to Hogwarts, while Albus wrote an anonymous letter. He used a self-writing spell from his wand; this obscured his handwriting so that he could not be traced. He then summoned an Indian post-owl using the _Accio_ spell. The bird wasn't particularly impressed at being caught like a Snitch and asked to traverse the globe, but Albus managed to convince it to deliver the letter to England by conjuring some tasty bites for the owl to eat.

With one last, regretful look at Professor Solstice's dead body and an increasing sense of worry over what fate awaited his father if he couldn't find him in time, Albus returned to Hogwarts on Fawkes's tail. He could have apparated to the front gates, but that would have looked suspicious. It was safer for Fawkes to take him back to the Room of Requirement.

'So where do we stand now?' said Gaunt, once Albus was back in the Room. 'Seven dead Archaeowizards and no clear evidence as to your father's location?'

'That is more than we knew yesterday,' said Albus. 'And, hopefully, my letter to the Ministry of Magic will incite a response of a kind. Unless the Ministry are in on all this, of course. In the meantime, we must continue practicing our Defense against the Dark Arts. I will put my brain to work and figure out another way of finding out where my father is being kept.'

'Why not send Fawkes,' said Jenning, whose face was bright as though he'd solved all their problems in an instant. 'Your phoenix should be able to locate him in a heartbeat.'

'Do you think I would not already have thought of that,' said Albus irritably. 'Fawkes can only go somewhere if he knows where he is going. We do not know _where_ my father is. Unless you want to tire my phoenix out by sending him to every location in the world, I do not think that is an option.'

Jenning's cheeks glowed and he kept his mouth shut after that.

That night Albus climbed into his four-poster bed feeling very morose. He had not expected to find dead bodies; this had only served to drum out the reality to him more seriously than ever. His father was in grave danger, and might even be dead by now, for all he knew. Dread crept across his skin, and he took hours to fall asleep. Albus had never known a darker time, something that rankled at him when he knew that his magical powers were developing at their fastest rate ever. This should be the prime of his youth! Instead, his father had vanished and his life was upside down. He felt like the world was being entirely unfair.


	17. Deathly Hallows Spoiler warning

Albus Dumbledore and the Wizard's Ruse

Author's Note: Herewith, some SPOILERS FOR HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS so do not read on if you haven't finished the canon!

This WAS a brief interlude threatening to end the story, after JKR's background of Dumbledore in Deathly Hallows turned my story from canon into AU. However, I got so many nice reviews from people that I decided to carry on writing. So please proceed to the next chapter... and enjoy the ending!


	18. The Betrayal

Albus Dumbledore and the Wizard's Ruse

Book Three of the _Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts _Series

Disclaimer: this is a work of fan fiction based on the worlds created by JK Rowling. The story is written for entertainment and not for profit.

* * *

Author's Note: I would like to thank everyone who reviewed my last update, where I, in a fit of depression at JKR's manhandling of Albus' backstory, threatened to stop writing this fan fiction. You were all so supportive, I just had to continue. I think, if I'd only received half-a-dozen reviews, I might've given up altogether. But about twenty people asked me to continue, so I will.

But I would like to say that in Deathly Hallows, JKR does change our impression of young Albus a great deal. I actually would like to say that I originally planned on having a great tragedy in Albus' youth. My plan was, at the end of 6th year, when Albus competes against Grindelwald in the Triwizard Tournament, for Grindelwald to murder Albus's parents, and for Aberforth to blame Albus. So Deathly Hallows wasn't entirely different from what I intended on writing.

Nevertheless, let's get this story finished. Not so many chapters left, now.

* * *

"Deceptions are not easily unveiled"

Chapter 17 – The Betrayal

The weeks that followed were nervous ones for Albus. He spent a considerable portion of his free time in the Room of Requirement, desperately hunting answers within the pages of the Room's many books. Albus mightn't have realized it at the time, but his magical skills were burgeoning due to all this extra work he was putting in, even though his only thought was the rescue of his father. His friends also searched the pages of the _Daily Prophet_ in the days after their trip to the East Indies, trying to determine whether or not the seven dead bodies had been found. At last, on the Thursday, Emily Marchbanks gave a quiet cry at breakfast.

'They have found them,' she said, beckoning the others to gather around her copy of the newspaper. She read out loud.

_SEVEN ARCHAEOWIZARDS KILLED IN ACCIDENT_

_Gregorian Skeeter reports…_

_The corpses of seven archaeowizards were found in the East Indies yesterday after an anonymous tip reached the ears of Ministry of Magic officials. The official report is that a pillar collapsed during magical excavations, crushing all seven under tons of debris. Naturally, this reporter is skeptical of the Ministry's rather lame explanation and suspects that some dark Hindoo magician is busy killing off British explorer wizards. In my educated opinion, I consider that this is akin to an act of war, and we ought to send an army of Aurors over to subjugate those fire-breathing, carpet-levitating half-humans in the Indies. For more of my opinions, read the editorials on pages 3, 4 and 6._

'They did not mention your father,' said Mars.

'Nor did they mention who, exactly, was killed,' said Albus. 'This sounds very much like the Ministry does not wish for people to know.'

'So, you think the Ministry is involved in the plot?' said Maggie, looking aghast.

'I am beginning to suspect so,' said Albus.

'Do you think you should tell your mother?' said Mars.

'No,' said Albus, thinking that he really ought to practice his Occlumency that night to ensure that Lubo Dumbledore couldn't peer into his head again and find out what he knew. She'd strictly forbidden him from investigating his father's disappearance, so even though his information was valuable, he couldn't risk her finding out what he'd been up to. 'No, but I think the time is fast coming where we ought to do something more proactive. Give me a few days to contemplate, for we need a plan.'

* * *

The trouble was that a plan wasn't readily forthcoming. Albus had no clues to work with regarding his father's location. Fawkes did not know where Archaeon was. Professor Equus had not presented Albus with any useful insights yet, and the portraits shook their heads reluctantly whenever Albus pestered them about whether they'd heard anything interesting or mysterious. All in all, Albus was growing frustrated not knowing what to do. He'd rarely felt more helpless in his life.

Yet strangely, Albus's schoolwork didn't suffer. Contrary, it blossomed. The pressure seemingly bolstered his performance in class. It was as though he thrived when his mind was in turmoil. His wand-work regularly drew gasps from his class-mates and teachers in lessons, particularly in Transfiguration, where he was routinely transforming tables into trees or textbooks into handsome eagles. In fact, Albus started pushing the boundaries, tweaking the prescribed material and adding his own flourishes. On one such occasion, he transfigured Professor Bones' desk into a stallion, ensuring that the yellow stain on the desk morphed into a yellow mane. Indeed, Albus was surpassing himself in every lesson, even as his fears grew deeper about his father's wellbeing.

As the weeks drifted into months, Albus also found his Occlumency skills accelerating at a much improved rate. Soon Lubo couldn't penetrate his mind; he could keep her out without difficulty, even maintaining a conversation with her whilst she tried to raid his thoughts. Eventually she declared that he was an Occlumens of the highest order. Albus's only regret was that he couldn't demonstrate this to his father.

* * *

Late in May, the final Quidditch match was played between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. Albus had been dropped for Jeremiah Potter, who would be the youngest Seeker for the next one hundred and thirty seven years. This didn't worry Albus as much as one might've expected; the boy was too preoccupied by his missing father. Archaeon had been gone for almost ten months. The likelihood of him ever being found again grew smaller and smaller with every passing day. The strain could actually be seen on Lubo's face; her skin was taut and her normally radiant hair now seemed to be thinning.

Albus was readying himself to join the procession down to the Quidditch pitch when John Gaunt took him aside, pulling him into one of the little enclaves behind a statue of Edelfredbert the Obscene.

'I need to show you something in the Room of Requirement,' he said. Gaunt looked excited; his arrogant face was blotchy and he breathed heavily. His eyes darted around somewhat; Albus couldn't suppress the slightest frown.

'Could you show me after the match?' asked Albus. 'I was rather looking forward to being a spectator, for a change. Especially considering Gryffindor could win the House Cup today.'

'No, it cannot wait,' said Gaunt, almost desperately. 'This is of vital importance to the whereabouts of your father.'

Albus's ears perked up immediately. His heart started beating fast.

'What is it? Tell me!'

'No, I must show you,' said Gaunt. 'Come with me. I'll take you up this secret staircase that only I know.'

Gaunt led the way up a winding, poorly lit stairwell, looking around corners as though afraid they might run into someone. Albus was disconcerted by Gaunt's odd behaviour. He considered Legilimensing the fourth year Slytherin, but decided against it. Their friendship wouldn't survive if he showed a lack of trust. One of Albus's greatest beliefs was that he should trust his friends. If you couldn't trust your friends, he reasoned, there wasn't any point having friends in the first place.

At one point in their journey upstairs, Albus passed a window into the grounds. He paused briefly to listen; the commentator yelled something about 'GRYFFINDOR LEADS BY…' but Gaunt grabbed Albus's arm and tugged him along. Clearly, the boy couldn't wait to show Albus whatever it was he wanted to show him.

They arrived at the Room of Requirement. Gaunt looked positively hungry by now. Albus hadn't the faintest idea what had Gaunt so worked up, but he was becoming excited himself. Perhaps Gaunt had found the answer to his father's predicament. Surely that must be it. Why else would Gaunt be so excited?

They entered together. Gaunt had his wand out. The room was poorly lit, and a figure stood somewhere in the middle. He was tall, with a voluminous beard and handsome features. Albus blinked a few times in the dark, but then the man said '_Lumos_' in a familiar voice, and his wand lit up.

Archaeon Nobilo Dumbledore stood in the centre of the room, smiling warmly at Albus.

'Father!' cried Albus. 'John, you found him…'

But cold fear seeped through Albus's being like a Disillusionment Charm. He was about to run forward and embrace his father when he thought better of it. Something about the scene was entirely incorrect. This wasn't his father. This was the impostor. John Gaunt had betrayed him.

'_Stupefy!_' cried Albus, sending Gaunt crashing to the ground. The fake Archaeon Dumbledore tried to do the same to him, but Albus whipped around and yelled _'Protego!'_ The red stunning spell was deflected and hit the wall. Albus tried to stun the false Archaeon, but the man whipped around with a flourish of his cloak and disarmed Albus before he could put up another shield.

'Boys should learn not to duel men,' said the fake Archaeon. He tied Albus up with anti-Disapparation rope, which glowed milky white in the dark room. Then, he levitated Albus's body and directed him along a corridor leading out of the Room of Requirement. Gaunt was left lying on the floor, unconscious. The fake Archaeon said, 'that good young Slytherin was kind enough to inform me once he discovered that the Room of Requirement can also act as the Come and Go Room. Convenient, really. His family will be well rewarded for his services.'

'Who are you?' Albus demanded. 'What have you done with my father?'

'That is not your business,' said the fake Archaeon. 'Your business is now to help us, or else we will punish you. Too long, your father has resisted our efforts. But now, with you captured, we will be able to bend your father's will towards our liking.'

'You will not get away with this, you evil man!' cried Albus. 'Release me!'

'I grow bored of listening to whiny teenagers,' said the fake Archaeon. '_Silencio.'_

Albus was silenced for the rest of the journey. The Come and Go Room led along a passage out of Hogwarts, coming out inside a cave somewhere in the mountains beyond the school. As soon as they were there, the fake Archaeon turned his wand on Albus and knocked him out with a red stunning spell. Everything went black.

Albus awoke who knows how much later. Every pore of his body burned with an agony he could barely tolerate. His skin felt like it was been peeled off by a savage heat, as though dragon flames were licking his body. He curled up like a dying spider; his back arched as far back as it would go. The pain was excruciating.

'_Crucio!'_ cried a high voice. Albus's pain doubled. Now he felt as though knives were being stuck into him at every point in his body. His body actually bounced on the hard floor as he twisted and turned and jolted. When he thought he could bear it no more, the spells were ended. Albus lay there, weaker than he'd ever felt, and trembling for fear that he was about to get hit with the curse again.

'That should loosen your tongue, I feel,' said the harsh voice of a woman. Albus blinked away the tears between his eyelids, trying to see where he was and who was torturing him. He was in a poorly illuminated room. A large family tree covered one wall; dark cupboards and other furnishings leaned against the other. He'd been here before: this was the Noble and Ancient House of Black. There were a group of people around him; they all had dark features, heavily lidded eyes and cruel expressions. They'd been enjoying watching Albus's suffering. The fake Archaeon was gone. Albus reasoned that the fake Archaeon had taken him to the House of Black by Side-along Apparition and left him with the Blacks.

'Where is my father?' Albus said.

'Where is my father?' parroted the woman in an unkind tone. 'Care not where your father is. Care for what your father can do for us. We have brought you here to bring about a response from your father. Too long he has resisted us. No more, I say. Punish his son; that will get the man to do our bidding. Yes. A little more, perhaps. _Crucio!'_

Albus was again assaulted by an agony worse than death. He felt like his nerves were on fire, like Ogden's Old Firewhiskey was coursing through his veins, undiluted. His body wanted to split at the seams.

'There, now you shall be ready to talk, I feel,' said the woman. 'Tell us everything you know about the dark wizard Imhotep; his rebirth, his second rebirth, and how each of those rebirths was foiled. Tell us everything.'

The audience of Black family members stared down at Albus, their expressions eager. He tried to clear the pain coursing through his head, but struggled to calm down. Three doses of _Crucio_ were almost too much too survive, he felt. Under the pretence of catching his breath, he tried to steady his thoughts. _I need to get out of here,_ he thought._ I need to summon Fawkes and I need to find out where my father is… how can I do that without giving away anything about Imhotep… they obviously want information to help them bring him back again… what if I Occlumens one of them…_

'Tell us, or I shall _Crucio_ you again!' cried the woman.

'Just Legilimens the brat and be done with it,' said someone else.

'_Legilimens!'_ cried the woman. Albus was ready for her. He shut his mind completely to her assault. He could sense her thoughts probing the surface of his mind, but he shielded her completely. As her frustration grew more apparent, he was smart enough to figure out that she'd cast _Crucio_ upon him again if he wasn't careful. Then, he certainly wouldn't be able to keep her out of his mind.

It was now or never.

Albus showed the first sign of his future greatness as a wizard in the moments that followed. Despite being wandless, he cried out _Protego!_ and found himself reading the woman's mind. He only did it for a fraction of a second; but that was enough to see his father chained up in a large vault-like room in the Department of Mysteries. Half a second later, Albus cried out 'Fawkes!' and his phoenix appeared before him in a flash of flame. Albus grabbed the phoenix's tail feathers and before the Blacks could do anything, he disappeared with the bird.

Albus reappeared in the Room of Requirement, where John Gaunt was just stirring in the corner.

'Stupefy!' said Albus, knocking him out again. He then turned his thoughts to the plan he wanted to put into action at once. He turned to Albion Dumbledore's portrait against the wall.

'Inform all those portraits at Hogwarts who have portraits in the Ministry that Archaeon Dumbledore is trapped in the Department of Mysteries,' said Albus. 'Ask them to spy on Ministry members and determine who, exactly, is involved in my father's kidnapping.'

Albion Dumbledore vanished from his frame. Albus next turned to Fawkes.

'Go to Professor Equus,' said Albus, 'and ask him if he can get to the Department of Mysteries and help us. Once you have asked him, please call the Order back to the Room of Requirement and tell them to wait here for my call.'

Fawkes disappeared. Albus then headed through the door and ran directly to his mother's office next to the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom. Now was the time to tell her what he knew: he wouldn't be able to get his father out of the Department of Mysteries alone.

Lubo Dumbledore was writing on a scroll of parchment when Albus burst in through the door. She looked up, her blue eyes watery and disconnected.

'Hmm, what is it, son?' she said softly, hardly thinking about what she was saying or writing.

'I know where father is,' Albus said. 'The false Archaeon just kidnapped me and took me to the Noble and Ancient House of Black. The Blacks were torturing me for information about Imhotep, but I managed to Legilimens one of them. I learned that father's being held captive in the vaulted room in the Department of Mysteries, you know, the one where they keep the Veil he found in Egypt! I managed to escape the Blacks on Fawkes' tail feathers.'

Lubo's gape grew wider as Albus spoke. When he was finished babbling, she turned to the window and sent a Patronus through the air. A streak of silver shot out of the tip of her wand, flying away across Hogwarts' grounds and into the milky blue distance.

_That's a remarkable way to communicate,_ Albus thought. _I must remember that for future reference._

'Albus, I am rather proud of you,' said Lubo, 'but I must ask you to remain here while I see to it that your father is successfully rescued. Please do not attempt to come with.'

'But mother, I must,' said Albus. 'I am the one who found the dead bodies of Professor Solstice…'

'That was you…?'

'…and I have just determined where father is. Surely I deserve the opportunity to partake in his rescue?'

Lubo regarded Albus carefully, as one might regard someone who had acted beyond their years. She smiled briefly.

'You are right, of course,' she said. 'You have done remarkably well. You have endured torture and you have seen death. You have behaved rather recklessly, I might add, and you disobeyed me…'

'I could not sit idly and do nothing!' Albus protested. 'Father was missing!'

'Yes, well, I was looking for him,' said Lubo. 'Yet it is you who have found him. Of course you may come. But stay behind me, and do not engage in wand-combat unless you are under direct attack. Let me do what needs to be done. I do not want you hurt, or killed.'

'Yes, mother,' said Albus, although he had no intention of listening to her. A fierce desire to save and avenge his father filled him from head to toes. He was boiling with the need to see the Blacks brought to justice, especially she who'd just inflicted the _Crucio_ curse on him.

'Come, we will use Floo Powder to get to the Ministry,' said Lubo. She picked up a handful and tossed it into the fire. 'Follow me. Speak very clearly when you step into the fire. Ministry of Magic.'

Lubo disappeared in a flash of green flame. Albus picked up a handful of Floo Powder and copied her.

'Ministry of Magic!' he cried, except he coughed as he said it. He disappeared with a swirl, but when he fell out of a fireplace it was not into the handsome entrance hall of the Ministry of Magic. It was into a beautifully furnished room with a fine oak table in the middle, on top of which was a sign reading _Minister of Magic – Lionel Wilberforce._

Standing behind the desk, in purple robes, was a very familiar looking man. It was the false Archaeon Nobilo Dumbledore, pointing a wand directly at Albus's chest…


	19. The Folly of Lionel Wilberforce

Albus Dumbledore and the Wizard's Ruse

Book Three of the _Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts _Series

Disclaimer: this is a work of fan fiction based on the worlds created by JK Rowling. The story is written for entertainment and not for profit.

* * *

A NEW CHAPTER AT LAST!

Author's Note: It has been more than three years since I last updated with an actual chapter and I apologise to those readers who were enjoying the story and looking forward to the ending. As I have mentioned, I became a published author in my own right and I work as a doctor, so I didn't have time. But I feel as though this adventure deserves an ending and so have decided to complete it.

For those who enjoy my writing, see michaeloehley (dot) com for more information about my actual published work, links to read a sample chapter, and links to buy the book! For anyone who's interested in learning about the writing process, check out michaeloehley (dot) blogspot (dot) com where I talk about how to write.

Otherwise, read on and enjoy the climax to _Wizard's Ruse._ I would like to make a significant disclaimer about these works of fan fiction that I've written – they are all written to _first draft_ stage and I _don't_ edit them. They were only ever written for fun, because I enjoy storytelling, and as an outlet. They have almost no resemblance to my published work because I don't take them seriously. My own books are edited to a much higher standard.

Also, reading through the three books so far, I've seen multiple inconsistencies (the way characters talk, names, etc) which were a product of my developing writing style. Even now at age 27, I'm still improving all the time. So I apologise for the variable quality of writing from my 2004-7 fan fictions!

"Even in the midst of chaos, order can be found"

* * *

Chapter 18 – The Folly of Lionel Wilberforce

Albus stared in disbelief. The Polyjuice Potion theory, first put forward by Ruth Roberts, had been correct. The Archaeon Nobilo Dumbledore standing before him now was an imposter; and was actually the Minister for Magic himself, Lionel Wilberforce! Albus raised his wand to defend himself, but the fake Archaeon disarmed and bound him in invisible rope before he could open his mouth to utter a spell.

'The Noble House of Black advised me of your escape,' said fake Archaeon. Albus noticed that his 'father's' hair was changing in colour before his eyes, and the imposter's face was realigning, as though it were molten wax being shaped by invisible hands. 'You are bound with an anti-disapparation jinx, so entertain no such thoughts of escaping my office.' Albus was silently relieved; the Black family obviously hadn't worked out that he'd escaped with Fawkes. They must've assumed that he'd disapparated.

'You,' said Albus, allowing the venom to drip off his tongue as the Minister for Magic took on his usual form. The Polyjuice Potion wore off completely, and now a tall man in silken robes with smooth polished hair loomed over him, wand pointed at Albus' chest. 'You kidnapped my father! You murdered Professor Solstice and those other people! You ransacked our home, stole our treasure…'

'_Silencio,'_ said Wilberforce. Albus' mouth kept moving and shaping words, but no sound came out. The Minister for Magic wandered casually behind the desk and sat in his magnificent leather chair, emitting a satisfied sigh as he did so. He fixed Albus with a shrewd stare and, instinctively, Albus threw up his best defence against mind-reading. 'Ah, your mother has succeeded in teaching you Occlumency after all. You certainly are a talented young wizard, a bright prospect. It will be such a pity to dispose of you when this is finished.'

That is precisely what Albus had hoped for. The Minister for Magic would undoubtedly want Albus dead in the end, but right now there was something Wilberforce wanted from him. This reprieve was just what Albus needed, for it gave his mother, Fawkes, Hogwarts' portraits and the Order time to act on his behalf. _Now_, Albus thought, _if I can just keep the Minister occupied for long enough to have Father found and myself rescued…_

'Never mind,' said Wilberforce, mopping his brow. The man was sweating quite heavily from the effort of trying to Legilimens Albus, and looked rather frustrated that he'd failed. 'If your mind is resistant to intrusion, there are potions that will invite you to talk.'

Wilberforce reached into one of his drawers and Albus knew what was coming before the vial of transparent liquid even appeared in the Minister's trickster fingers. How was he going to resist Veritaserum? And more importantly, what _else_ did the Minister want to know? At the House of Black, Noxious' vile relatives had been trying to extract information about Imhotep from him using the Cruciatus curse. Was that what Wilberforce was up to? Albus didn't want to find out, and searched his head frantically for a way to escape.

The Minister walked slowly and deliberately towards him, the vial of truth serum glinting in his hand. Albus was rendered immobile by the anti-disapparation rope, wandless and speechless. What was he to do?

In that moment, it was as though Albus' astonishing academic development at Hogwarts that year coalesced into fully formed expression of his brilliance. Without the use of his tongue or a wand, he focussed all of his energy on the vial in Wilberforce's hand and mouthed _Reducto!_

'Curses!' yelled Wilberforce, as the vial shattered in his palm. Bright, red blood dripped onto the carpet from where the glass had cut his skin. The Minister, now turning puce in anger, performed a rudimentary healing charm to close the wounds, but there was no recovering the Veritaserum from where it mingled with blood and carpet fibres on the floor. 'Boy, you are beginning to test my patience. I trust you didn't enjoy the Cruciatus curse earlier? Well, if you think that I am less inclined to use it than the Black family because I am the Minister for Magic, think again. One more stunt like that, and I will inflict pain upon you like you have never before experienced.'

Albus considered his options as Minister Wilberforce returned to his desk to retrieve another vial of Veritaserum. Knowing that Veritaserum was a rare potion, Albus guessed that the Minister probably didn't have more than two or, at most, three vials of it. He weighed the heavy decision in his mind whether it was better to take truth serum to avoid the Cruciatus, or whether he should sacrifice his own comfort to keep his secrets. The difficulty was that he didn't even know what secret the Minister was after! How could he decide whether it was worth protecting a secret and suffering enormous pain when he didn't know what information he was guarding?

Albus was spared the choice by some deft thinking from the Minister. As Wilberforce approached Albus with the second vial, unscrewing the cap with his wand, Albus' mouth opened instinctively to mutter _Reducto._ Before Albus could do so, Wilberforce magically levitated the potion and fired a stream of the transparent liquid into his open mouth! Gagging, Albus couldn't help but swallow the Veritaserum.

'Ha,' snorted Wilberforce, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. 'Not smarter than a fully grown wizard yet, Albus Dumbledore! Now you will answer all of my questions, and when I am satisfied with your answers, we shall see whether your father can endure the sight of his dearest son being tortured. That way, the man will give us what he has refused to give for ten months!'

Feeling somewhat woozy from the Veritaserum, Albus struggled to hold a coherent thought in his mind. So Wilberforce had imprisoned his father for ten months, trying to get some information out of him… and the Minister planned to torture Albus in Archaeon's presence until he relented… but now a peaceful wave washed over his mind and he felt blissfully unaware of his dire predicament. The Veritaserum had taken effect.

'What do you know of Imhotep's secret vault?' demanded Wilberforce. Albus politely replied, but under the effect of the _Silencio_ charm, no sound escaped his lips. 'Answer me, child!'

It took the Minister for Magic two minutes of yelling, spitting and stamping about to realise his folly. He undid the silencing charm so that Albus could speak and repeated the question from before. 'Tell me about Imhotep's vault!'

'I have been there a few times,' said Albus lightly, 'including this year on a secret expedition with my friends. We found it startlingly empty, as though some Dark wizards had cleared it of all…'

Just then, a portrait on the Minister's wall interrupted loudly. The picture was of a member of the Black family, now deceased, but the resemblance to Noxious and the people who'd just been torturing Albus was plain. He looked ruffled and angry, and spoke directly to the Minister.

'Minister, we have a rather major problem at hand,' said the portrait. 'The ruse is uncovered. Wizards and witches of unknown loyalty are descending upon the Ministry. The Malfoy portrait on the lowest level spotted Lubo Dumbledore making her way to the room where her husband is imprisoned. Your servants await instruction.'

Lionel Wilberforce went pale momentarily, and Albus, in spite of his drugged state, spotted a glint of fear within his eyes. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the fear was gone. The Minister pulled himself up to his full height and barked direct orders at Black's portrait, before turning to issue commands to other pictures on the wall. As each received their orders, they disappeared from their frames. 'Black, summon your family at once. Ribelius, advise our Prussian allies about developments. Codswald, visit your _other_ portrait and deliver the news. Wetheringham, call the _loyal_ Aurors and get them down to the Department of Mysteries at once. Dumbledore and his wife must _not_ be allowed to escape!'

The Minister turned to face Albus, his wand raised in a threatening manner and an ugly, indecisive expression on his face. Albus regarded him mildly, completely unconcerned. The Veritaserum made it impossible to feel _anything_, let alone fear. Wilberforce looked in two minds, uncertain whether to murder Albus now or save it for later. Different thoughts appeared to cross his mind, until the hard look in his eyes faded and his grimace evaporated. He said, 'I shall deal with you later, Dumbledore. For now, you are no threat, drugged as you are and bound by my anti-disapparation jinx.'

With no further thought spared for Albus, the Minister swept out of his office through the door. Albus heard Wilberforce casting locking spells on the door before the heavy pounding of his footsteps disappeared down the corridor.

Albus was alone, bound by invisible magic and without a wand, his mind dulled by Veritaserum. But the Minister for Magic had made one major mistake, an error made more grave by the fact that he'd moments earlier witnessed Albus' ability to perform wandless magic! The man assumed that a third year Hogwarts student couldn't possibly extricate himself from such a situation without a wand. How wrong he would prove to be.

The first dilemma Albus faced was the Veritaserum. His thoughts were cloudy and he battled to formulate a sensible idea in his head. Words would form into sentences, only to shatter like smoke blown away by an open window, or disperse like water down a drain. Yet one thought kept reappearing, a fiery birdlike image bursting through the mists like sunlight at dawn. Eventually, Albus' mouth formed the word and he uttered, 'Fawkes.'

With a flash of reassuring flame, the phoenix appeared on his shoulder. It cocked its head to the side and regarded Albus with what was unmistakeable curiosity, as though surprised to see its master in such a befuddled state.

'Tears, Fawkes,' Albus managed, opening his mouth and poking out his tongue. Duly, the phoenix leaned over and blinked a single tear on to his tongue. The restorative powers took effect immediately. Albus' fuzzy head cleared and his thinking returning to its most alert, sharp state. 'Thank you, Fawkes. _Accio _wand!'

The Minister's second mistake had been to leave Albus' wand where it lay in the corner. The trusty willow wand sailed into Albus' right hand and, scarcely had he grasped it, than the invisible cords which bound him were unleashed. He was free!

'Fawkes, have you found my father yet?' he asked. The phoenix fixed him with an intent stare, conveying that it had, but Archaeon was too well restrained by magic. There were limits to Fawkes' power, after all. 'Well, at least he is alive. That is something. Come, we must go help my mother. Wilberforce and all his cronies will be too much for her to handle alone, even if her allies are there to help...'

Albus paused, halfway to the door. Here was an unprecedented opportunity, and in his haste to help his father, he'd almost let it slip away! What was he thinking? He was _inside_ the Minister for Magic's office, unsupervised (for all the portraits had left their frames to do Wilberforce's bidding). There could be evidence in here to prove the Minister's guilt to the world, to link the Black family and the Prussian Ministry to the plot against the Dumbledore family, and even to reveal the full extent of their nefarious plan to discover Imhotep's ancient Egyptian powers! Albus resolved to at least have a look, if only for a few minutes.

He'd just begun to rifle through the drawers of the Minister's massive oak desk when a small cough made him jump with fright. He spun around, wand raised and _Protego_ on his lips... but it was only a voice.

'Do be careful with that thing,' said the familiar voice of Albion Dumbledore, his ancestor. 'Someone once cast a charm on my visage and I had to sport a dreadful scar for years. It followed me from portrait to portrait, that scar, until a kind sixth year scoured my face and restored my handsome features.'

'Yes, what is it?' said Albus, more curtly than usual, but there wasn't time to entertain the old man.

'Your Order awaits your instructions,' said Albion placidly. 'You asked me to summon them to the Room of Requirement, do you recall? That is how I managed to visit a portrait in the Minister for Magic's office; the Room of Requirement can be used as a Come and Go room for portraits, too!'

'Oh, yes,' said Albus, his spirits soaring and falling at the same time in a confused swirl. The fact that his friends had rallied so quickly to his aid made him positively burst with pleasure and gratitude. By the same token, he was stricken with a painful sense of déjà vu. Last year's decision to involve the Pirates in his adventures had led directly to Victoria Moody's tragic death. He didn't want a repeat... yet his friends surely wouldn't accept a rebuttal.

_They deserve the chance_, he thought. _I've got to trust them, now more than ever._ It was the type of decision that would define Albus Dumbledore throughout his life: that willingness to expose young, vulnerable people to dangers beyond their years.

'Fawkes,' said Albus, 'please return to the Room of Requirement and bring some of the Order to the Minister's office; but only those of third year and above. Albion, tell the first and second years that I cannot put them in harm's way. I could never live with myself if they were to die.'

Fawkes and Albion disappeared simultaneously, leaving Albus to rummage through the Minister's belongings in a desperate search for clues and evidence to incriminate the evildoers.

His hand closed on a parchment emblazoned with the emblem of the Prussian ministry at the same instant that Fawkes reappeared with a flash of flame, accompanied by Mars, Emily, Edward, Jennings and Davey. Moments later they were joined by Ruth, Aberforth, Elizabeth, Alice and, to Albus' great surprise and pleasure, Swarbrick Prince! Not everyone in the Order had made it, but Albus' heart soared just from the knowledge that his friends could be counted on. Words tumbled out of nearly everyone's mouth at the same time.

'That Gaunt,' seethed Emily, 'is such a... such a...'

'We bound him up good and proper,' said Edward. 'He will not be going anywhere.'

'We won the Quidditch Cup!' cried Mars, 'but what in Merlin's name's going on?'

'Yeah,' breathed Davey, 'and believe it or not, young Potter missed the Snitch!'

'Third time this year we have won the match but lost the Snitch,' said Aberforth. 'Thomas was none too happy... muttering something about _should have kept Dumbledore on the side...'_

'...devious, untrustworthy scoundrel!' Emily spluttered.

'What _is_ going on, Albus?' said Jennings. 'Where _are_ we?'

'Yes, what is happening?' said Alice.

'It is the Minister for Magic's office!' cried Ruth, spotting the sign on Wilberforce's desk. 'And you are stealing from him!'

Ruth's accusation silenced everyone, driving pointless talk of Quidditch matches from the room. Ten pairs of eyes fixed on Albus, who stood like a muggle with his hand in the cookie jar, clutching the ministerial scroll.

'I am not stealing,' said Albus. 'I do not have time to explain everything, but the short version is as follows: Gaunt tricked me into the Room of Requirement, where the fake Archaeon Dumbledore kidnapped me. He took me through a Come and Go tunnel to the House of Black, where I was tortured for information about Imhotep. Fortunately I managed to escape, but not before Legilimensing one of the Blacks to see where my father is being kept...'

'You found our father?' cried Aberforth.

'Yes,' said Albus, 'but do not interrupt. We have little time. Fawkes disapparated me back to Hogwarts and I alerted Mother and told Albion to summon all of you. When Mother and I travelled by floo powder to the Ministry, I accidentally said Minister... and found myself looking at the fake Archaeon!'

'No!' cried Emily. 'The Minister for Magic was the imposter? Surely not!'

'He was,' said Albus. 'Ruth's Polyjuice Potion theory was correct...'

'That's my girl,' said Aberforth, noisily planting a wet kiss on Ruth's glowing cheek.

'Stop interrupting!' cried Albus, shaking the parchment about. 'The Minister tied me up and was trying to extract secrets from me again, but then he heard that Mother and her allies are in the building. I suspect there is going to be a terrible fight... it has probably already begun. We must go and help my father escape, but I wanted to look for clues in the Minister's office first. We might never get a chance to find evidence against him.'

'So what is that in your hand?' said Mars curiously.

Albus unravelled the parchment and began to read. His eyes widened like full moons as he read the words, as did those of his friends. The revelations were almost too much to believe.

_31 August, 1854_

_From the Office of Edelwert Grindelwald, High Imperial Kaiser of Prussian Magic_

_To the Anglo-Saxon Minister for Magic, Mister Lionel Wilberforce_

_Dear Sir,_

_Further to your earlier communication, we at the Prussian High Chancellory of Magic are entirely in agreement with your plan. We believe it will be of mutual benefit to our two great nations to access the darkest and most potent magical arts from ancient Aegyptus._

_The Archaeowizard of whom you speak has been a thorn in our side for much too long and we, like yourself, look forward to his downfall. Let us be clear, however, that Dumbledore's considerable knowledge must be harnessed before he is terminated. He is the key to unlocking the Dark Arts of Imhotep._

_The Prussian High Chancellory of Magic will not accept failure from you, our cousins across the Channel. Failure to extricate or share the relevant findings of your plot with us will be tantamount to a breach in our alliance. Make good on your pledge, or face the consequences._

_We watch and wait for the fulfilment of your promise._

_Yours in alliance,_

_Edelwert_

_High Imperial Kaiser_

_Prussian High Chancellory of Magic_

When Albus finished reading, the Order gaped at one another for several moments, too shocked to speak. Albus' throat felt drier than the parchment he'd just read from. This was more than just a matter of revenge from the Black family for the embarrassment they'd suffered because of the Dumbledores. This was an international plot against his father, one that reached the very highest offices at home and abroad! His skin prickled and he couldn't help shivering, either, for this wasn't the first time he'd encountered the name Grindelwald...

'Albus. Albus! _Albus!'_ cried Aberforth, clicking his fingers before Albus' eyes until he snapped to attention. 'That is surely enough proof to indict the Minister, but do you think our time would be better spent helping our mother and father against these villains?'

'You are right,' said Albus, shaking away the myriad thoughts that cluttered his head. Oh for a Pensieve to unclog his head, sometimes! He stuffed the parchment into the pocket of his robes. 'Come, we must get down to the Department of Mysteries at once. But before we go, may I remind each and every one of you how dangerous this could be? Anyone who has second thoughts can take Fawkes' tail back to the Room of Requirement.'

Nobody budged a muscle. They all stared back at Albus, determined to partake in the adventure, and he felt another surge of warmth in his breast for having such true friends.

'Well?' said Swarbrick, who'd yet to speak and looked rather discomfited when everyone turned to look at him. 'Are we going, or not?'

'Of course,' said Albus. 'Right, Fawkes, you are to act as our warning agent. Send a feather to me if we are in imminent danger. The rest of you, wands out and follow me. Be on guard at all times. Our very lives depend on how watchful we all are.'

Nobody needed reminding that this was serious business. Fawkes disappeared again and Albus headed for the door, followed by the others in a tight bunch. It was surprisingly simple to undo the Minister's locking charms on the door, a sign that he had been in too much of a rush to properly secure his office. Or perhaps his charms were confined to stopping anyone from getting _in_ rather than getting _out._ Once again, Wilberforce had underestimated Albus Dumbledore to his detriment!

'Mars and Emily,' Albus whispered as they began to make their way along the dimly lit corridors of the Ministry. It was night, and the corridors were mostly deserted. 'You know the Ministry better than I do, for your parents work here. Help me find the Department of Mysteries.'

'Very well,' said Emily, nervously moving to the front. She kept Albus tightly bound to her shoulder, as though he was a shield against harm. Mars joined them, and together they navigated the way.

'If only we had Potter's cloak,' said Mars, trembling.

'What use would it be?' hissed Emily. 'It would not cover eleven people.'

'Gaunt's Disillusionment charm would be useful,' said Albus, but, noticing the scowl on Emily's face, quickly added, 'but we do not need his help.'

'Scoundrel that he is,' Emily sniffed. 'I cannot believe you trusted him.'

'Now is not the time to discuss Gaunt's perfidy,' said Albus. 'Let's keep our voices down and concentrate on getting to my father.'

The cluster of eleven frightened youths said nothing further for ten minutes as they wound their way down into the bowels of the Ministry of Magic. Their journey took them to a large amphitheatre, a ring of stone seats looking down upon a raised plinth, upon which was the mysterious stone arch that Archaeon Dumbledore had uncovered during his Egyptian expeditions. But that wasn't what captured the children's attention as they entered the room. Instead, their eyes were captivated by a ferocious magical duel that was in full flight.

Spells green, red, purple and white flashed backwards in forwards in every direction. The air swirled with movement as figures apparated from place to place, spinning into whorls of mist and reappearing somewhere else moments later, all the while trying to jinx opponents at every opportunity. Albus just made out his mother's white hair near the bottom of the arena as she engaged Lionel Wilberforce in a furious duel. He couldn't recognise many people in the melee, but was able to gather that at least half of the combatants appeared to be on Lubo Dumbledore's side... yes, there were Professor Prewett, Bones and Rolleston, all fighting on the Dumbledore's behalf! His spirits were raised even higher...

'Albus,' said Aberforth. 'Who is that lying near the bottom of the arch... is that... is that... _our father?'_

Every single thought drained out of Albus and his ears were filled with a voluminous buzzing sound. He abandoned all reason and, evading his friends' desperate attempts to hold him back, started running down the staircase towards the arch, trying to reach the motionless form of Archaeon Nobilo Dumbledore...

_To be concluded..._


	20. The Truth Outs

Albus Dumbledore and the Wizard's Ruse

Book Three of the _Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts _Series

Disclaimer: this is a work of fan fiction based on the worlds created by JK Rowling. The story is written for entertainment and not for profit.

* * *

Author's Note: Thank you to those of you who have started reading Albus' adventures again, especially those who wrote such kind reviews.

To new readers, this is a series I wrote for fun from around 2004-7, and I've only recently decided to finish book three of Albus Dumbledore's adventures at Hogwarts. It is AU, because JKR's book seven wasn't out when I started, so I didn't know about Ariana and the rest of Dumbledore's background.

The reason for the three year gap in writing is that I'm now a published author in my own right. Check out michaeloehley dot com for more information if you like my writing.

I am unlikely to continue writing fan fiction in the indefinite future, but I will finish this story for completion (and for the sake of all my readers!)

* * *

"There is no true black or white, only shades of grey"

Chapter 19 – The Truth Outs

Albus ducked underneath a bolt of green light, hurtled down the staircase, dodging the legs of duelling wizards and witches, until he skidded to a halt underneath the arch at the bottom of the amphitheatre. He grabbed his father by the shoulders and shook him wildly.

'Father,' said Albus, a feeling of despair rising in his chest. 'Father, wake up! You cannot be dead, you cannot be!'

Other members of the Order crowded around Archaeon Dumbledore's limp figure, most of them uncertain how to act in the presence of what seemed to be a dead body. Aberforth could barely stand, leaning heavily on Ruth's shoulder for support. It was Swarbrick Prince, of all people, who had the presence of mind to act.

'_Enervate,_' said Swarbrick, his wand directed at Archaeon. Albus' father gave a loud gasp, sat up momentarily, wide-eyed and stunned, before slumping back to the floor making groaning sounds. Aberforth's legs gave way and Ruth nearly did the same, scarcely able to keep her boyfriend standing. Albus gave Swarbrick a quick, appreciative grin, before flinging himself on Archaeon's heaving chest.

'You are alive!' he cried, 'oh, thank Merlin, you are alive! I thought you were gone...'

Archaeon gave a low mumble that sounded like 'Ah-boos', before his eyes rolled back in his head and he fainted again. His breaths came in low gasps and he was terribly pale, but he was alive, and that was all Albus cared about.

'Albus,' said Jennings, tapping his shoulder. 'I do not think we should merely stand here in the middle of a raging duel. We must find a way out of here.'

'You go, then,' said Albus, gritting his teeth. 'I am not leaving Father's side.'

'That is not what I meant,' said Jennings. 'We must all escape, together. We will help you get your father out of here.'

Albus scanned around the blazing amphitheatre. He could sense the presence of anti-disapparation jinxes, which pre-empted the use of his own ability to apparate. It was obviously why Fawkes had not been able to rescue his Father yet. But getting the dead weight of a comatose man like Archaeon, not to mention eleven schoolchildren including Albus to the exit looked near impossible. Spells flashed across the room in flurries too terrible to behold. Part of the ceiling had caved in where a vicious spell had struck, and at least ten people lay motionless across the stone steps. Lubo was still engrossed in a torrid duel with Lionel Wilberforce, and Albus' eyes blurred from trying to figure out whether either had the upper hand.

'Albus,' said Mars, urgently. 'We must move!'

'Very well,' said Albus, his mind churning with solutions to what seemed, on the face of it, an impossible situation. 'Emily, can you do a levitating spell?'

'Yes,' she said, looking slightly offended that Albus even had to ask.

'Good,' he said, ignoring her petulance. 'Levitate my father and guide his body up to the door. We shall surround him on each side for protection. Aberforth, you are to lead the way. Do you feel up to it?'

'Of course,' said Aberforth, pleased that his younger, more talented brother was giving him the opportunity to lead the way for a change.

'Mars, Edward, Swarbrick and Alice, you are to take my father's left side and use shield charms to protect our left flank. Elizabeth, Ruth, Jennings and Davey, you do the same on the right. I shall take the rear position, protecting us from behind. I suspect that's where the gravest danger will come from, once the enemy realise that we are affecting an escape.'

Albus stared around the group of kids who had become so dear to him over the past few years, his companions and friends. They stared back, pale-faced but defiant, determined to help in whatever way they could. His heart warmed with gratitude, but his guts clenched with a contrary sense of anxiety. He did not want a repeat of last year, when Victoria died... he could not bear the thought of it happening again...

'Are we ready?' said Albus.

'Yes,' the Order replied, with varying degrees of confidence.

'Then, Aberforth, lead the way!'

Emily duly levitated Archaeon's motionless body and, flanked by four Hogwarts students on either side with Aberforth up front and Albus behind, the strange retinue began the dangerous ascent up the amphitheatre to its exit. Lubo was the first to notice the children's audacity. She managed to work herself into a position between Lionel Wilberforce and the Order, raising great defensive shields that rung like church bells whenever the Minister's spells struck. She spoke to Albus over her shoulder, her eyes not leaving Lionel Wilberforce once.

'Get out of here as quickly as possible,' she said. 'Take your father to Hogwarts; it is the safest place for him. Do not return to our home, we have no safety there anymore.'

'But I do not want to leave you either,' said Albus. 'I want to fight these evil...'

'No,' said Lubo, her voice so commanding that Albus was silenced without the influence of magic. 'This is not a place for you. These people are murderers. Get out, get out now!'

It did not take long for the Minister and his villainous allies to realise that their quarry, Archaeon Dumbledore, was being helped to safety by a group of schoolchildren. Soon they rounded on the staircase, their wands raised and expressions severe. Albus immediately feared for Aberforth's safety, and regretted putting him out in front. But his concerns were soon quashed. Aberforth's _Protego_ spell was so fierce that the first round of attacking spells was repulsed with such intensity that five Ministry Aurors were bowled over! Albus swelled with pride in his brother, and wondered whether it was, perhaps, _love for their father_ that empowered him so.

The Order weren't alone. Professors Prewett, Rolleston and Bones, among other faces that Albus vaguely recognised from Dumbledore family tea parties over the years, assembled on either side of the staircase to hold back the enemy line while the children made their way to the exit. Albus saw blood on Professor Rolleston's face and noticed that Hogwarts' Headmistress was carrying a broken arm. Perhaps Mother was right; the danger was too great for him. He bit down on his lower lip and remembered, rather humbly for Albus, that he was only thirteen.

An ear-splitting rumble was heard overhead and Albus spotted a vast chunk of ceiling falling down towards them. Before anyone else could react, he unleashed a flurry of _Reducto_ spells, reducing the rocks to fine dust. Everyone was coated in a thick layer of dust, causing Edward and Davey to start sneezing uncontrollably. The collapsing ceiling had created some measure of confusion even among the adult ranks, so Albus saw an opportunity. He stepped out from behind the group and blasted a path forward to the doorway.

'Aberforth, run!' cried Albus. 'Everyone, follow!'

The floating body of Archaeon Dumbledore, flanked by eleven children, hastened out of the amphitheatre and into the shadowy corridor beyond. Albus turned one last time before they departed to survey the chaos that he was leaving behind. The fighting was more furious than ever, and he could not make out his mother anymore amidst the turbulent swirls of dust and blinding streaks of magical spells. Anger at what the Ministry had done to his family swelled inside, stronger than ever, and Albus was tempted to cast the Cruciatus Curse on the nearest Ministry Auror. But his conscience prevailed; or perhaps it was the tug of Mars' hands pulling him away from the room.

'Come on, Albus,' yelled Mars. 'We must stay together!'

Snarling with rage, Albus listened to his friend and hurried after the rest of the Order. They had just turned the first corner when a deep voice with a Germanic accent stopped them in their tracks.

'Ah, so you have brought ze prize to me!' said a giant of a man, who blocked their way down the corridor. He had pale, almost white eyes, and reminded Albus of the two, horrible boys he'd had the misfortune of meeting during last year's Triwizard Tournament: the Grindelwald brothers.

'Who are you?' snapped Aberforth. 'Get out of our way.'

'Zat is no way to speak to ze High Imperial Kaiser of Prussian Magic,' said the man, who Albus now recognised as Edelwert Grindelwald. Now he truly understood why Archaeon Dumbledore was a 'thorn in the side' of this man, as he'd written in his letter to Lionel Wilberforce. Albus' father had organised the last challenge in the Triwizard Tournament, which had resulted in the death of the older Grindelwald brother. By seeing the resemblance to the boys in the Prussian Minister's face, Albus knew that this was the father of the pale creature that had become Albus' greatest enemy during last year's Tournament.

Albus thought quickly about how to escape this perilous situation. Even outnumbered eleven to one, he suspected that Edelwert Grindelwald could easily overcome a bunch of schoolkids and murder his father.

'We have proof of your crimes, Minister,' Albus called out. 'Let us go, or else we will show the world how corrupt you are.'

'Ah, so we have all of the Dumbledores here today,' said Edelwert. 'I will delight in killing each and every one of you.'

The Prussian Minister raised his wand, pointed it at Aberforth and began, '_Avada...'_

Something happened so suddenly that even Albus had to cry out in surprise. An old man had been standing in the corridor behind the Prussian Minister, unnoticed by anyone. With a flash of brilliant golden light, he transfigured into a magnificent bucking stallion. It was the Horse Man, Hogwarts' ageless Care of Magical Creatures teacher. The glorious beast kicked up onto its hind feet and, with a triumphant whinny, kicked Edelwert Grindelwald in the back. The Prussian Minister was thrown to the ground, knocked unconscious and deprived of his wand, which clattered against the wall. Albus quickly vanished the wand so that Grindelwald was left unarmed, and hurried forward to greet the Horse Man.

'You came,' he said, breathless. 'Fawkes must have called you. Thank you...'

The horse nodded, its liquid brown eyes conveying reassurance to Albus and the other members of the Order. Then, with a backwards tilt of its head, the horse indicated that they should lift Archaeon's body onto its back. Emily did as instructed, levitating him until he lay prone across the Horse Man's muscular hindquarters. Then, without a further word, the immortal horse galloped off down the corridor, carrying Albus' father away to safety.

'What now?' said Aberforth, who still looked rather green after his close encounter with death at the wand of Edelwert Grindelwald.

'We do as Mother said,' said Albus, feeling the air for traces of magic. There was no anti-disapparation jinx here. 'We return to Hogwarts. I can apparate back to the Room of Requirement alone, but we will need Fawkes to carry the rest of you back. Fawkes, where are you?'

The phoenix appeared with a flash of flame and held out its tail for Emily, Davey, Swarbrick, Elizabeth and Alice to take. Albus waited until the phoenix had disappeared, reappeared and then disappeared with Aberforth, Ruth, Jennings, Mars and Edward before disapparating himself.

The eleven children reconvened moments later inside the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts, where a ring of chintz armchairs sat around a cosy fireplace, with house elves on hand to serve warm mugs of hot chocolate to the returning adventurers. Albus felt a massive sense of relief to have escaped the Ministry without one death among his friends, but a new peril clawed at his heart: the fate of Lubo. What if he had saved his father, only to leave his mother to die? He chose not to think about it; it was too awful a thought.

'So what now?' said Mars, voicing a thought shared by everyone else in the room. John Gaunt lay prone and unmoving on the carpet before them, bound by jinxes inflicted before the others had left for the Ministry. The first and second year members of the Order had been guarding him; they now fixed expectant eyes on Albus, clearly eager to find out what had been happening.

Albus massaged his temples gently, trying to soothe the thumping headache that developed whenever myriad thoughts crossed his mind at once. Being a leader was difficult, as it involved solving problems for several other people. Albus had the recurring thought that a Pensieve would be nice, if only to siphon off some of the issues clouding his head.

'First things first,' said Albus, feeling a bone-weariness that he hadn't ever experienced before, 'I need an owl.'

The Room of Requirement obliged. A window was flung open and one of Hogwarts' imperial eagle owls fluttered in, landing on Albus' knee and nodding officiously. Albus took out the incriminating parchment that proved Minister Wilberforce's treacherous alliance with the Prussian Ministry against his father, and quickly scrawled an additional note on a second piece of parchment in his neat, narrow writing. He wrote:

_To Gregorian Skeeter,_

_Editor-in-chief, the Daily Prophet_

_Dear Mr Skeeter,_

_Please read the attached letter from the Prussian Minister for Magic to Lionel Wilberforce that proves a terrible plot against my family. It is important that the wizarding world hears the truth, before the Ministry makes up a story to cover-up their actions. As I write this, a ferocious duel is happening in the Ministry of Magic between Wilberforce's allies and the allies of my parents._

_Minister Wilberforce and the Black family have acted with evil intentions against my family all year. My father disappeared ten months ago and was held captive in the Department of Mysteries. We have only just rescued him and brought him back to Hogwarts. Our house was ransacked, our wealth stolen, and the Minister himself infiltrated my mind by using Legilimency and the Polyjuice Potion, pretending to be Archaeon Dumbledore. These crimes against my family all relate to the knowledge my father gained in the Egyptian desert a few years ago about an ancient Dark Lord called Imhotep. Minister Wilberforce, the Black family, and the Prussians are all trying to steal that knowledge for their own ends._

_Please help expose the Minister's ruse. They cannot be allowed to get away with this!_

_Yours sincerely,_

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

_Student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Aberforth, Mars and several of the others crowded around as Albus wrote the letter, nodding with approval at the last sentence. Albus bound the two parchments together and attached it to the owl's leg.

'Take this to Gregorian Skeeter immediately,' Albus said gently but firmly to the owl. 'Make sure he opens it, and nobody else.'

'Can Skeeter be trusted?' said Jennings, one eyebrow raised. 'What if he is on the Ministry payroll?'

'We have to trust him,' said Albus. 'There is nobody else with enough influence to contradict the Ministry. The integrity of Gregorian Skeeter might be our only hope.'

'Or,' said Aberforth wisely, 'his love for a good story. I rather suspect he would enjoy making up headlines for this.'

'What should we do about Gaunt?' said Emily, who hadn't taken her eyes off the Slytherin fourth year since their return to the Room of Requirement. 'Can I hex him?'

'No,' said Albus. 'We need to find out whether he betrayed us out of his own accord or whether he was under the Imperius curse by the Minister.'

'What?' cried Emily. 'Do not tell me you think he is innocent after what he did…'

Albus raised a hand and Emily fell silent. Everyone sat back in their armchairs, astonished to feel a genuine wave of power from Albus. His aura was so strong that the hair on their skins prickled and nobody could speak. If anyone in the room had doubted that Albus was the greatest student ever to attend Hogwarts, these were quashed for good.

'_Enervate_,' said Albus, his wand pointed at Gaunt. The tall Slytherin woke up, but remained wandless and bound by invisible ropes.

'Let me go!' he growled.

'No,' said Albus. 'First, I must know the truth.'

There was a moment of silence in which Albus locked his clear blue eyes with Gaunt's. The Slytherin's face quickly contorted and assumed a panicked expression.

'Get out of my mind,' he cried. 'Do not… I cannot… I do not know Occlumency… how dare you…'

The other members of the Order watched, spellbound, their heads popping from one to the other as Albus probed Gaunt's mind. The hapless Slytherin tried to fight the intrusion into his head and the spells that held him motionless, but could not escape. Albus' face was a picture of concentration, but then it relaxed and he leaned back in his chair, looking utterly serene.

'What?' said Emily. 'What did you find out?'

'Do not dare reveal my secrets,' spat Gaunt.

'_Silencio,_' said Aberforth, giving the Slytherin a harsh glare. Gaunt glared back, but was powerless to retort.

'So?' said Emily. 'What did you learn?'

'It all makes sense,' said Albus. 'The Gaunt family has fallen upon hard times. Their family wealth has dried up and the Minister had leverage against them. He offered John's parents a significant bribe if their son cooperated with his plot. John's parents ordered him to infiltrate my Order and serve the Minister. He did not want to, but he had no choice.'

'Of course he had a choice,' snapped Emily.

'That is easy for you to say,' said Swarbrick, perhaps feeling that his fellow Slytherin deserved a fair hearing in the presence of so many Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws.

'There is no need to quarrel,' said Albus, looking directly at Gaunt's defiant face. 'John, I understand your reasons for betraying me. I forgive you, but you cannot remain a member of the Order.'

Albus undid the spells that bound the Slytherin and handed his wand back to him. Gaunt was bristling, his arms tense with a desire to fire spells at Albus, but he thought better of taking on the school's best wizard (and a room full of enemies). Instead, he shouldered past Albus and stormed out the door, scowling and grumbling all the way.

'Good riddance to bad rubbish,' said Emily, haughty as ever.

'That is enough,' said Albus, somewhat disappointed that his tolerant and inclusive Order had been reduced to just one Slytherin. 'Now we await news of my father and mother. Fawkes, can you report on my mother's wellbeing?'

The phoenix, which had been preening in the corner on its mahogany stand, disappeared for a few minutes. In the meantime, Albus found a telescope by the window and strained to see any movement down by the Hogwarts school gates or the Forbidden Forest to suggest that the Horse Man had arrived with his father. Before he spotted anything, Fawkes returned with a flash.

The fire-coloured bird locked eyes with Albus and conveyed the news that he'd been waiting to hear. Breathing a massive sigh of relief, he relayed it back to the others.

'My mother and her allies have escaped the Ministry,' said Albus. 'Professors Prewett and Rolleston are badly injured, but they will return to Hogwarts shortly to receive treatment. Several people died, but nobody that we know.'

'Thank Merlin,' said Aberforth.

'Yes,' said Albus, nodding to himself. 'Yes, thank Merlin.'

'Look!' cried Mars, who had commandeered the telescope while Albus was communicating with Fawkes. 'It is the Horse Man, with your father!'

Albus needed no invitation. He and Aberforth made a simultaneous dash for the door, sprinting down several flights of stairs and hurtling across the grassy lawns of Hogwarts to meet their weakened father on horseback. The Horse Man carried him up to the hospital wing, where he could be properly cared for. All other thoughts were pushed out of Albus' head for now. He merely wished to stand by Archaeon's bedside, watching his father intently for signs of improvement. They were shortly joined by Lubo, as Professors Prewett and Rolleston came in for treatment of their injuries, and for the rest of the evening, the Dumbledore family watched and waited anxiously by Archaeon's side.

* * *

It went unspoken all night in Hogwarts' hospital wing, but everyone was on tenterhooks about what was going to happen. The Ministry would be furious with the Headmistress and her schoolteachers for openly fighting Aurors and other Ministry allies in the Department of Mysteries – but how could they justify their imprisonment of the world-famous Archaeowizard Archaeon Dumbledore? Of all of them, only Albus had a quiet hope that the outcome would be in their favour. It all depended on Skeeter…

That morning, Albus and Aberforth went down to the Great Hall for breakfast, after some protests against their mother who insisted that they leave their father's side. The school portraits had, as usual, disseminated the whole story across the school, so hundreds of gossiping heads turned to watch the Dumbledore brothers take their place at the Gryffindor table. The attention did not last too long; people were still talking about the Quidditch Cup and Gryffindor's astounding triumph.

Just as the golden bowls were filled with porridges, fruits and other delights, owls swooped into the Hall bearing mail and the morning papers. A Daily Prophet landed on William Potter's head and Albus had grabbed it and unravelled it to the first page before anyone else could flinch. He couldn't help but yell out in delight, relief and happiness.

'Aberforth! Mars! Everyone – look!'

A dozen heads crowded around to read the massive headline that seemed to cover the entire front page, leaving only a small space for text at the bottom:

_MINISTRY PLOT UNVEILED! CORRUPTION AT THE HIGHEST LEVEL! ILLEGAL IMPRISONMENT OF FAMOUS WIZARD! FATAL DUEL ON MINISTRY PROPERTY! MINISTER FOR MAGIC FORCED TO RESIGN IN DISGRACE! MINISTRY IN UPROAR! CALL FOR MORE HEADS TO ROLL! PRUSSIANS IN DENIAL! FOREIGN RELATIONS IN DISARRAY!_

_Gregorian Skeeter reports:_

_In one of the most salacious scandals ever to embroil the Ministry for Magic, evidence has emerged of a terrible plot by Minister Lionel Wilberforce and several other figures of importance within the Ministry against world-famous Archaeowizard Albus Dumbledore, with the Prussian Ministry in cahoots! The evidence came to light yesterday as a massive duel took place in the Ministry, causing the deaths of at least three Aurors and another seven people. This humble reporter has never heard of such treachery against all the ideals upon which our magical community was founded._

_See page 2, 3 and 5 for more outrageous details…_

_See page 4 for the full story of Archaeon Dumbledore's unlawful imprisonment…_

_See page 7, 9 and 10 for editorial commentary…_

And so on it went. Albus allowed the newspaper to be hijacked by other people interested in reading the details, and went about eating his breakfast in silent, pleasant contemplation. His family was vindicated. That was all that mattered. Secretly, he'd been worried that the Ministry would invent trumped up charges against his mother and father, leaving the Dumbledore name disgraced. But now, there was no chance of that happening. The Minister had resigned, and the other collaborators would be forced out in good time. With any luck, the Dumbledore family fortune would be returned to them… but none of that really mattered. What was truly important was that Archaeon, Lubo and Aberforth were all alive, well and safe within the walls of Hogwarts. That and Albus' friends had all made it through a terribly dangerous adventure intact.

This time, unlike last year, nobody dear to Albus had died.

* * *

The weeks and months that followed blurred into one. Archaeon Dumbledore remained an inpatient of the Hogwarts hospital wing until the end of the school year, slowly but surely recovering from his ordeal. He seemed to have lost some of his aura, but his sparkle soon returned and Albus took great pleasure in visiting his father every afternoon. Professors Prewett and Rolleston returned to work, hale and healthy, and all the teachers (Lubo Dumbledore included) acted like slavedrivers as the end-of-year examinations approached. The Order's weekly meetings were postponed because there was so much studying to be done, but Albus breezed through it unaffected. Having his father back meant he could take anything, even long nights of studying until the candles had burned low and the moon had risen and set.

Of course, the examinations went swimmingly for Albus (and not so much for Aberforth, who protested that Ruth distracted him). He topped the class in every subject, and then some, winning every single prize available to third year students. Even Jennings Ranger had to begrudgingly admit that 'Albus Dumbledore is the best'.

And so, Albus' third, most tumultuous year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry drew to a close. A glorious summer back at the Dumbledore's home in Wales awaited, a summer of frolicking with the Jones brothers' in the Quidditch fields and learning even more challenging magic from Lubo and the now-recovered Archaeon. Four years more at Hogwarts awaited him – and Albus desperately hoped that he could focus on learning how to be a great wizard instead of dodging life-or-death situations. But, when he thought about all the fun that he had with the Order, Albus knew that there would certainly be more adventures to come.

Because one thing was truer than most – wherever Albus Dumbledore went with his extraordinary talent - wonderful, magical and sometimes dangerous things were sure to follow. Of that there was no doubt.

_The End_

* * *

Author's Note:

Thank you to everyone who has ever read and/or reviewed my fan fiction series about Albus Dumbledore's life at Hogwarts. As I said before, I am unlikely to write fan fiction again, now that I am a published author of my own. But I'll never say never: because this has been a lot of fun.

If you've liked my writing, see www dot michaeloehley dot com for information about my children's book and links to buy it. To everyone in the fan fiction universe I say: goodbye, good luck with your writing, and thank you for the opportunity to practice my developing writing skills back when I lacked confidence and was still learning the tricks of the trade. It has been worth every word, page, chapter and all the hours spent.

Yours,

'Grandson of Dumbledore'


End file.
